Behind Closed Doors
by dantesdarkqueen
Summary: What happens between Anders and Aria is for nobody's eyes but their own. Some lemons, mainly drabbles of various types. Chapter 2 onward.
1. Staking His Claim

**Summary: **Hawke's been getting way too close to the Knight-Captain for Anders' peace of mind. How can he convince her to get away from him before she winds up in the Gallows, or drives him insane?

**Disclaimer: **Aria is my spin on Hawke. Other than that, nothing is mine.

**Queen's Quornor: **There are several Hawkes that I've enjoyed playing, but aside from Phaedra I had one other mage whom I remember fondly. Aria made it her mission in life to try and find a balance between mages' freedom and the templars' authority, which meant she did a lot of talking to certain persons in the Gallows. However, with those she cared about she enjoyed getting under their skin. In other words, Carver was more than glad to join the templars, and he never once deigned to acknowledge that the crazy apostate chatting it up with the Knight-Captain was in any way, shape, or form related to him. This woman loves to needle people. But as you can tell, if you read "Love and Mercy," she does have a soft side reserved solely for Anders.

Staking his Claim

"Are you crazy?"

She glared at him, her violet eyes sparking. "I'm serious, Anders. Why shouldn't I go with Cullen? He's a nice man, and decent enough."

"He's a bloody _templar! _The moment you're away from us, he'll shut you up in the Gallows so fast you'll think you imagined it!" Anders paced the length of his clinic, digging his nails into his palms in an effort not to shake her until her teeth rattled.

"He's not taking me anywhere near the Gallows, you moron! There's a coven of blood mages he's been tracking on the Wounded Coast, and he needs my help to nab them. His templar abilities won't help much against a damned nest of naughty robes." She crossed her arms under her breasts, unintentionally lifting them a bit higher in the low-cut shirt she wore. Anders grit his teeth and forced himself to look away. Aria was a gorgeous woman, but sometimes he wondered about her sanity.

"How do you know he isn't making this up?"

"Because there are far easier ways to get me into the Gallows than tricking me into an ambush. That aside, we've _seen_ their handiwork, Anders. Remember those blood sacrifices we found while we were tracking that new group of Tal Vashoth?" He nodded reluctantly, his mind conjuring up images of the broken bodies piled at the bottom of the cliffs below the trail, each of their throats slit wide open and their unfeeling flesh as pale as seafoam. A lone blood mage could not claim that much power in such a small amount of time. "He wants to root them out himself, since some of the other templars have been questioning his authority based on his Ferelden heritage. He figures that with my help, he should be able to handle them and prove he is capable enough for his position."

"You can't go with him!" Anders snarled, glaring at her as he stalked by.

He felt the burn of her eyes on his back. "You would forbid me?" she asked, her voice dripping scorn. "Let's get one thing straight, Anders. You're my friend and I value your opinion, and I enjoy your company. But you don't own me." Her tone softened, some of its edge lost as old hurts surfaced anew. "You made it quite clear that you don't want to."

His heart squeezed, because nothing could be further from the truth. He wanted her so bad it was often a physical pain, but he _couldn't _let her in. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her, and with Justice in his head that was almost an inevitability.

But neither would he let her doom herself to the life he had fought so hard to escape. He would sooner blow the whole damned building sky-high than see her in the Circle. "I don't trust his motives, Hawke. Why would a templar, especially the Knight-Captain, need an apostate to oust blood mages? You're a powerful woman, but surely he would choose a Circle member instead of outside help? It just doesn't make sense."

"If nothing else, it'll be a chance to spend some time alone with a handsome man."

That stopped him short. "Repeat that."

"If nothing else..."

Anders turned to face her, keeping his distance. In his mind, Justice was roaring at her seeming betrayal. "You can't be serious."

Aria's eyes were chips of cold amethyst, her heart-shaped face utterly devoid of warmth. "Why shouldn't I view it that way? I'm a healthy young woman - I've got needs. And templar or not, Cullen is a very attractive man. It'll be fun getting to know him, even if we are hunting blood mages."

"If you're only interested in that, you'd be safer just going to the Blooming Rose. The skewering done there isn't fatal," he growled.

"Why should you care?" she snapped. "What does it matter to you if I spend some time with another man? At least Cullen treats me like a woman, and not some fragile jewel. He always makes time for me when I go to visit him."

"You _visit _him?" Anders reared back as though slapped, her words robbing his breath. He'd had no idea she had been making friends with the enemy. "Maker's breath, why not just offer yourself up on a silver platter? One day you'll go for a visit and find yourself Harrowed by nightfall!"

"He's not as bad as the others! Cullen's nothing like Ser Alrik!"

"Oh, I think he'd enjoy turning you into a drooling idiot all the same. Templars love it when spirited mages become docile Tranquil and they can do whatever they want to them."

His head whipped to the side with an audible _smack!_ He rubbed a hand over his stinging cheek; he'd never seen her move from her place across the room. Aria looked a little startled herself, but she held her ground, daring him to retaliate.

"I'm going, Anders. Don't even try to stop me," she said lowly.

He nodded sharply. "If you're that certain about clipping your own wings, then I won't stop you. But please, just _think._"

Aria whirled around and snatched her staff from its place alongside his on the wall. "I have thought, Anders. And I think I should get out of here before I electrocute you."

Anders turned his back as she strode from his clinic, knotting one fist to his heart in a futile attempt to keep it in one piece.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Bodahn peered again into the entryway where he sat, the dwarf's eyes filled with curiosity. Anders ignored the servant, far more concerned with what he was going to say to Aria when she arrived. After their fight, he hadn't been able to focus on anything else. All he wanted was to make sure she was all right, that the Knight-Captain hadn't taken advantage of her trust and dragged her to the Gallows, or worse.

If Cullen had laid a finger on her, Anders would obliterate him. He had no claim on her, but...

Maker, why continue the charade? She meant the world to him, try though he might to deny it. Even Justice thought highly of her, in spite of what she had said. The spirit's only objection to her was her effect on Anders, how her mere presence usually calmed his inner turmoil and made him think of something other than his revolution.

Anders buried his face in his hands. If something ever happened to her, he would lose himself entirely to Vengeance. The entire world would drown in blood and fire, would know his anguish at losing her, the woman he -

A soft jingle of metal sounded outside the door and Anders froze. The noise was soon replaced by the harsh clink of impact on stone, and a muttered curse in a voice so familiar he would know it anywhere. The key finally scraped in the lock, and the door swung open, admitting a redhaired woman in a short leather skirt and cuirass, her staff slung across her back with her pack. She kicked the door shut behind her and turned to set the lock. Her violet eyes widened as she caught sight of him.

"Anders," she breathed.

"I had to see you," he hastened to explain, rising to his feet. "I was so worried about you, I couldn't think straight."

"Well, as you can see, I'm fine." She spread her arms, inviting him to look her over. Aside from the usual amount of dust and grime, and a few new scratches and scorch marks marring her leather garb, there was no sign that would say she had been in a fight at all. "Those blood mages really did a number on Cullen, which is why we were gone so long. I had to heal him. Obviously, he refrained from admitting me to the Gallows afterward," she added with a wry smirk.

Anders felt a very heavy weight lift from his shoulders. A part of him would never trust Cullen, but at least the other man's honor had been proven. "I'm glad you're safe and free, Hawke. If anything had happened to you, I..."

"You would what?" she prompted, watching him with a measured gaze.

"I would kill them all," he confessed, his voice heavy. "Everyone who had a hand in harming you. I would do anything to keep you safe, Aria. Even fling myself headfirst into the Void, if that's what it took."

He chanced a glance at her, and was surprised to note that she was standing utterly still, her violet orbs wide. "What did you just call me?" she breathed.

"I called you Aria. You know, your name?" he replied, stepping closer to her. She made no move to stop him.

"Nobody has called me that in a very long time," she whispered, looking down. "Not even Mother. Since Father died, I've only been 'Hawke'."

He dared to cup her cheek, lifting her face so the moisture gathering in her lovely eyes caught the light. "Do you want me to stop?"

Aria drew in a shuddering breath, closing her eyes to tilt her head more closely against his palm. "No. You're the only one I want to hear it from."

Justice tried to remind him that taking this any further was sheer folly. Anders told the spirit to mind his own damned business. "Can we discuss this elsewhere?" The last thing he wanted was to chance Aria's mother interrupting them, or worse, Sandal.

She looked into his eyes, then nodded and took his hand. Bodahn cheerfully greeted her as they emerged from the entryway, and she acknowledged him with a nod and a smile. Her mabari, Boudicca, started to get up from her favorite spot before the fire, but Aria stopped her with a quick gesture. Anders was pleased at her foresight; he and Boudicca had never exactly been the best of friends, given his preference for cats and the hound's love of sticking her nose in strange places at awkward times. The mabari whuffed indignantly, but nevertheless flopped back down on the rug as her mistress led him up the stairs to her room.

He cast a quick look at the door he knew to be Mistress Amell's, grateful that it was closed. Maker be praised, she had already retired. Hopefully she would not overhear what he planned to do to her beloved daughter.

Anders managed to keep his hands to himself while Aria closed the door behind them, instead preparing himself for something he never thought to do again. None of his previous conquests had ever affected him him the way she did, and he certainly had not cared for them to this extent. It had always been about mutual fun and pleasure, before he was conscripted into the Grey Wardens and met Justice. This was something entirely new and different, not the game he was used to playing in and outside of the Circle.

But that was all right. He was beyond ready to share this with her, because he did love her. Even if she had been with _him_, after tonight she would hunger for nobody else.

"Anders?" Her soft call broke through his reverie, drawing his attention to her. She had set her staff and pack by the desk and stood before the fire, awaiting him.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for you," he confessed, going to her. "In the Circle, mages only experience a shadow of love. It's all the templars will let them have. But every one of us grows up hoping to find the one person who can make the pain vanish, and bring us the happiness we crave. I've spent the past three years aching for you, but I dreamed of you long before we ever met."

He wrapped his arms about her, burying his face in her soft red hair, feeling her clasp him in turn. "Please don't let this be another dream, Aria. Tell me this is real, that _you're _real."

"I'm as real as you are, Anders. I've waited for you, too." She squeezed him, just hard enough for him to realize she was not teasing this time.

He breathed deep, inhaling her familiar scent of vanilla and cinammon and the metallic tang known only to those who practiced magic. "We were always ordered not to love, and punished when we did. It was the one rule every mage feared to test, because the templars could take our love away so easily."

"Nobody's taking me away from you," she promised, lifting her head so her eyes met his.

Anders smiled, feeling the final shackles dissipate into nothingness. "I've broken a lot of rules, Aria. But this is the one I'll enjoy breaking the most."

He lowered his head to hers, caressing her lips with his own before joining them in a deep kiss. She answered by holding him tight and pressing her hips against his, grinding with just enough pressure to make him groan low in his throat. In response, she pulled back from his embrace and once more took his hand, tugging him towards her bed. Anders willingly followed, squashing Justice's silent protests; he had wanted a woman like this since the day he realized girls were not as disgusting as little boys thought, and he was not going to let the spirit keep him from her any longer. They had lost enough time as it was.

Aria settled atop the blankets and he let her pull him down atop her, though he shifted his weight to the side so he only partially covered her. From there he could kiss her to his heart's content and still explore her body, thus satisfying them both for the moment. She seemed absorbed in their current duel of tongues, and he took the opportunity to undo the laces of her leather cuirass and skirt. She managed to kick off her boots when he pushed her away long enough to help her out of the armor.

She glanced down his body then flicked her gaze back to his face, her eyes eloquent. He brought her hands to the buckles that held his robes together and she eagerly began sliding leather through metal. Within minutes he was also in his smalls and her hands skated along his naked chest and sides, mapping the newly exposed planes. As for him, he focused on tracing the soft flesh just beneath her breast-band, kissing her all the while. She shivered at the attention given to skin so near, yet so far from the areas she wanted him to tend, and he smiled against her lips when she voiced her desires with a quiet whine.

Finally he slid his wandering hand to her back and, before she could react, rolled her onto her front. Aria started to raise herself but he rested a firm hand between her shoulders. "Wait, sweetheart," he murmured. "Be still for me."

She grumbled something indecipherable, but complied nevertheless. Anders swung himself atop her so he straddled her thighs and brushed her hair away from her neck, leaning forward to lay a hot kiss against her nape. She shuddered. Pleased, he began pressing a trail of kisses along her spine, undoing the clasp to her binding while she was good and distracted. That done, his lips traveled along her arms to her hands, where he sucked and nibbled each slim digit in turn before returning along the underside of her limbs. She could not help moaning at his attentions.

Anders moved back down the bed, kissing his way down her body. Her hips raised beseechingly when he reached the small of her back and he was obliged to hook the waistband of her smalls as he continued along the curve of her rump, sliding them down her long legs until he reached her feet, where the small scrap of cloth was deposited on the floor and he focused on her sensitive arches.

"Sweet Maker," she moaned into the covers. "I had no idea..."

"...that I was this good?" He returned to blanket her with his body, having doffed his own smalls at the foot of the bed. "Sweetheart, this is only the beginning."

"I may not survive this," she whined, grinding against his naked length.

He laughed darkly, pinning her and rolling them so she lay atop him. "If you don't, I will raise you. We can continue where we left off."

Her arms rose to clutch the pillows above them as he turned his attention to readying her further with one hand slowly massaging her breasts and the other delving between her wide-spread legs. "You really would do that, wouldn't you?" A helpless laugh quickly turned into a strangled gasp when he nipped the side of her neck.

"You're not getting out of this so easily, Aria." He soothed the bite with a long lick, enjoying the way she was beginning to undulate her hips against him. "I'm going to make up for all the time I spent trying to be noble, and when the morning comes everyone is going to know what you've been doing." He sank his teeth delicately into her shoulder, where he knew her armor wouldn't hide the mark. Let the templar see _that._

She groaned as his fingers swirled between her folds, spreading the moisture throughout her cleft. Anders kissed the sensitive spot he knew lay beneath her ear and pulled her thicker lips wide, exposing her hidden pearl to his longest finger. He rubbed it softly, and she bucked her hips hard against his hand, the movement rolling her body in a wave against his. He smirked. "Sensitive, aren't we?"

Aria drew in her breath, trying to say something, but the air exploded from her as he rubbed her again, harder. "So responsive, and all for me," he growled, holding her steady with his free arm. She continued to rock between his hips and his fingers, throwing her head back against his shoulders as her moans came faster. How long had she been without a man? It must have been some years, for her to be this sensitive. Pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her neck, he slid his hand further between her legs and plunged one finger deep.

He froze, astonished, when he felt the tight ring of tissue gripping his finger. At the same moment, Aria winced and hissed out something other than pleasure.

"You're a virgin?" he questioned, his eyes wide.

She nodded. "I told you I waited."

He had thought she meant since meeting him, not all her life. Anders mentally kicked himself for not realizing her meaning sooner. "Oh sweetheart. I'm sorry."

"This...doesn't happen but once," she tried to explain. "I didn't want it to be meaningless. Not that it really matters or anything, but..."

"Aria, it does matter." He slid out from beneath her, laying her on the bed and stretching out beside her with one arm draped across her midsection. He propped his head in his hand and sought her eyes, noting her sudden shyness. "It means you want to feel something for your first lover, cherish the experience. You don't want to throw your virginity away for a quick tumble and move on to the next man. There's no shame in that."

"You're not disappointed?" she asked, unable to hide the slight tremor in her voice.

Anders favored her with a tender smile. "Sweetheart, I could not be any more honored to be your first."

He leaned over her, guiding her into a deep kiss. At length her arms closed about him, and he took it as a cue that she was ready to pick up where they left off. Knowing she was a virgin, he would modify what he originally had in mind for this encounter. An experienced woman would know what to expect, but Aria might not. He would save his best tricks for later, when she was ready for the full force of his passion. As timid as she was acting now, that meant his lips were going to remain above her mons this first time. Later she would find out just how good he could be.

He skimmed his hand down her body, sending his other arm around her shoulders to hold her close. Her legs parted willingly at his touch, and soon he was caressing her as intimately as before, patiently avoiding her entrance. When she began rocking again, Anders reached up to unwind one of her hands from his back, guiding it down the line of his side. "Touch me," he breathed against her lips, between kisses.

She was slowly becoming less nervous about her imminent defloration. Under his guidance, her long fingers carefully trailed down his stomach and lower, skating quickly up the length of his shaft and down the other side. He groaned loudly, encouraging her, and returned to stroking her cleft. Aria's touch gradually became more confident as she took him in hand, running her fingers along his hot skin with something more than virginal curiosity.

At last it became too much. Her arousal was progressing well, but he was getting too close to his end. He gently disengaged her hand and distracted her by stroking into her mouth with his tongue, coaxing her into similar play. Once she was sufficiently wet, Anders drew back from the kiss and slid further down the bed, kneeling between her thighs.

She watched him, her eyes dark with desire and the timidity only a maiden could know. He sucked on one of his fingers and ran it down her slit, slowly pressing it inside her body. She cringed a little, but did not stop him. Knowing that was a good sign, he slowly stroked his finger in and out of her, getting her used to the intrusion and the feel of something in that particular area. Aria's eyes closed and she tilted her head back against the pillows, beginning to gather the covers within her fists. After some minutes of this, he added another finger, pleased that she did not respond with more than a pleasured moan. Carefully he scissored the digits, which did make her hips draw away a little, but he did not force her too much and the unwelcome pain was soon forgotten. Maker willing, the same would be true for what was to come.

Anders kneed closer to her. Holding her hips steady, he took himself in hand and closed the distance, letting the head of his shaft slip between her folds. Aria rose onto her elbows, watching him and biting her lip. He stroked her for a time, acquainting her with his size and feel, and then nestled himself against her entrance. He looked up at her. "Trust me, sweetheart."

She breathed deep, then let the air out slowly. "I love you."

His heart swelled at that, and her declaration was followed by the slightest twitch of his hips into hers. When she did not draw away, he held her gaze with his and pressed inside, slowly.

She gasped at the pain, but Aria did not ask him to stop. He watched the emotions chase across her features, her nervousness and hurt replaced by realization and desire. He witnessed her final transformation from a maiden into a woman.

The last barrier he had placed around his heart crumbled, and he knew then that he never wanted to experience this with anybody else, ever again. Come what may, he loved her and wanted to remain beside her.

He lowered himself atop her, drawing her into another kiss as he began moving. Aria's limbs climbed around him, trying to keep him as close as their flesh would allow. The pressure, the friction grew and she called out her passion between kisses. Anders kissed her wherever he could reach, smoothing his lips down her neck and shoulders to tongue her breasts, marking her tan skin wherever he could but always returning to her sweet mouth. Her nails dug into his back, leaving long scratches as he worked to take them both higher.

How could he have lived without this for so long? He knew the answer to that; he had been tired of meaningless conquests, of laying and leaving. Now that he knew firsthand the difference between sex and making love, living a chaste life was no longer an option. If his Aria's cries were any indication, she wholeheartedly agreed with him. This was better than anything he could remember experiencing before.

She broke her mouth away from his on a gasp when he hit something especially sensitive within her, and he reclaimed her kiss in time for her to tighten around him inside and out, convulsive ripples stroking him as the climax overtook her at last. Burying his face in her neck, he gave in to her silent demands and ground deep into her, letting his body take over until he lacked the strength to move.

They stayed locked together, but Anders rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She lay with her legs on either side of his hips, her arms around his neck, and he stroked her sides and back in the afterglow. At last she raised her head to look at him.

"I meant what I said. About loving you."

He gazed into her purple eyes and let himself smile. She was truly his, and this was no dream. "Then you should know that I love you, too. I've known it for some time now, but I couldn't tell you before."

"You thought I should choose somebody else, somebody who isn't an apostate." She sighed, her lips curved upward. "I think loving illegal mages runs in the family. Maybe not yours, but definitely mine."

Then we will make sweet magic together, he thought, drawing her head down to rest beneath his chin. "Sleep, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere yet."

She snuggled against him, curling her arms beneath his shoulders so her hands lay beneath him. "Don't ever leave. Stay, with me."

"Do you really mean that?" He looked down at her. This woman was full of surprises. "You're willing to risk the knight-commander finding two apostates living under the same roof?"

"For you, I would risk anything," she replied sleepily. "Let me protect you."

Stunned, he leaned his head back to stare at the bed's canopy. Nobody had ever sheltered him without some kind of ulterior motive before. Even Kionalil, the Dalish Warden-Commander of Ferelden, had only protected him from the templars so he could join her ranks. That Aria was willing to tempt fate by letting him live with her was a humbling and exhilarating thought.

He held her until she fell asleep in his arms and their bodies disengaged on their own, dreaming things he had never thought possible in his dark, lonely clinic. With Aria's love, his hopes were infinite. At last, despite knowing she could not hear him, he gave his consent to her proposal. "So long as I can protect you, sweetheart."


	2. Her Father's Song

**Summary: **Of all the times to ask about her name, he chooses _now?_

**Disclaimer: **See every other 300+ disclaimers I've written since joining this site.

**Queen's Quornor: **I normally don't name characters without a reason. Phaedra, for example, came out of mind weasel where Malcolm met his daughter's spirit in the Fade the night before Leandra became pregnant. Every now and then, however, a name will come to me out of nowhere and I'll find out later how fitting it really is, or I'll pick one just because it sounds good. Aria was one such case, although I later came up with a reason for her musical moniker. It just didn't cross my mind to share the story until a friend asked about it. So here's another AndersxAria drabble, for you to enjoy! Oh, and people? Reviews are love! Try to find the movie reference!

What's in a Name?

"So are you ever going to tell me your real name?"

Aria looked up from her place on Anders' stomach, feeling one scarlet brow quirk high in surprise. This was a rather odd moment for such a question, given that he was still panting from her most recent intimacy lesson. Of all things for him to think about now, he picked her _name?_

"You could just tell me I'm no good at this," she suggested archly, " and help me hone my technique."

"What?" Anders looked at her with wide eyes, then frantically waved his hands in the air. "That's not what I meant, sweetheart! You did very well, especially for a novice bed partner. My mind sometimes wanders in strange directions while the blood returns to my brain. It just occured to me that you have a very odd name, that's all."

She sat up and folded her arms, frowning now. "What's wrong with it?"

"It sounds more like an alias than a name, especially for your family." He hiked himself up against the headboard and began ticking off his fingers. "Your mother is Leandra, your father was Malcolm. Your siblings are Carver and Bethany. Carver seemed a little odd until you told me he was named after a templar, so that explains him. But your name is a musical term." Anders looked at her, his amber eyes alight with curiosity. "It can't be your real name. So what is it? Marian? Mildred? Diana? Rachael?"" He appraised her, a smile tugging at his mouth. "You look like a Rochelle to me. Is that it?"

"My parents have no Orlesian ties. Why would they name me that?" Aria asked on a snort.

"Because it's pretty?" Anders shrugged. "I've heard you sing, sweetheart. You could easily make a living off your voice, if you wanted to. So did you, what, change your name to reflect your surpressed musical talent?"

She sent a quick jolt of lightning into his largest toe, making him jump. "Aria _is_ my real name, Anders. I was named after music, much as Carver was named for that templar."

"Did you slide from the womb singing instead of crying?" he wondered, pulling his feet away from her.

She shook her head and crawled towards him, nestling herself along his side and laying her head on his chest, forcing him to wrap his arms around her. "I inherited my voice from Father," she began, "and he's the one who chose my name.

"You see, I'm only two years older than Carver. When our parents eloped to Ferelden, they dreamed of having many children. But for four years, there was nothing. They tried and tried to conceive, and no babies came. Mother became convinced that she was barren, and Father began visiting the local chantry every day, risking discovery so he could pray to the Maker for a baby. Finally, they discovered that Mother was with child." She smiled, remembering the joy her father had expressed when telling the story. "When she told Father the news, he threw his head back and sang to the skies, thanking the Maker with music instead of prayer. Father would sing to me while Mother carried me, after the day's work was finished and they had gone to bed. After I was born, he would do the same thing to make me sleep, holding me and crooning some lullaby he made up as he went."

"So your parents named you after the song?" Anders asked, looking down at her.

"Yes." She cuddled closer to him, closing her eyes in contentment. "Father sang what he called an aria of praise, and so I became his Aria. He called me his 'little masterpiece' when the twins weren't around. Mother referred to me as her miracle baby, because she and Father had to use fertility potions to conceive again."

"I think I would have liked your father. He sounds like a wonderful man."

Aria sighed and craned her head to meet his gaze. "Until I met you, I never thought I could find a better man than my father. I know he would have liked you. Except for a few differences, you really are very similar."

"I suppose being possessed does set me apart from him." Anders rolled onto his hip, facing her fully. His eyes danced with quiet humor.

"I wasn't referring to that, although it is a good point," she acknowledged with a grin. "What I meant is your lack of talent in the musical arts. Father had a beautiful voice. Yours, while pleasant to the ear, is not meant for singing."

"Then you can sing for us both, sweetheart." He hugged her close, tucking her head beneath his chin with a tender kiss to her her hair. "I'll listen to your namesake whenever you wish."

Aria smiled, beginning to hum her father's song into his heart.


	3. Love and Mercy

**Summary: **Sometimes mercy is not so easy as one might think.

**Disclaimer: **Aria, mine. Anybody else recognizable, not mine. Capiche?

**Queen's Quornor: **There's another fic I'm writing about this particular character, but it'll only be posted after I finish with the love scene. "Loss" has its final chapter written, just needs to be posted. Same with "First Love." Plus I finally managed to download the Exiled Prince, so there's a Sebastian oneshot I need to upload. Just so you know, when comparing this Aria to the other fic in which she appears, Anders has mellowed her some. She's become a soft touch when it comes to him.

Love and Mercy

Aria came awake with a start, blinking owlishly in the faint light from the moon. She lay still, wondering what had disturbed her. The fire had died in the hearth, but as there was no storm this night the warmth was not missed. The manor sounded quiet, and if somebody had broken in Boudicca would have alerted her mistress.

She felt the bed shifting, and realized what had interrupted her rest.

Carefully she rolled onto her back, thankful she had not drawn the curtains when she spotted the curved back of her lover in the faint silvery light. Anders was seated on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He suffered nightmares so often, it was really no surprise to find him this way.

Aria crawled over to him, laid a gentle hand against his naked shoulder. He answered with a soft gasp that was one part surprise, two parts sob. She didn't need to see his face to know there were tears in his eyes. In response she rose onto her knees beside him and drew him against her, tucking his head beneath her chin and holding him close.

His arms closed around her, desperation singing in the tightness of his grip. She pressed her lips to his hair and held him while the hot tears bathed the base of her throat and collarbone, and he was wracked wih the force of his terror.

What was it this time? she wondered. His darkspawn dreams had stopped bothering him long before he moved into her manor. Was it Ella's face again? Perhaps it was his recurring nightmare of being made Tranquil for something Justice did or prompted him to do. But no, this reaction didn't seem right for that vision; Anders usually became physically ill after suffering it.

She listened to him cry and decided it was better to let him tell her, rather than coax it out of him. Comfort was more vital than confrontation here.

After a time his sobs slowed and his trembling eased, although he still held her in a death-grip. Aria stroked her fingers through his hair and down his back, soothing him while he collected his thoughts. At last his voice rasped against her chest. "Why?"

"You'll need to be more specific, love," she murmured.

"Why did you pick me, Aria? How can you love someone like me, knowing what I am?"

She sighed and pressed her cheek to his hair, thinking how to pharse an answer he already knew. "I don't think I could love anybody else, Anders. Maker knows I tried, back in Lothering, but it never felt right and the whole mage thing always got in the way. Since meeting you, I can't imagine being with anybody else. I love you, plain and simple."

"You deserve somebody better than me," he choked. "You should share your life with someone worthy of you, not a possessed apostate who can barely control himself most days. What if I hurt you? What if something happens to you because of me?"

"I know you won't hurt me," she assured him.

Anders heaved another sob and moved his his head to her shoulder, burying his face in the side of her neck. "I saw you, Aria. The templars took you. They beat you, hurt you..." He shuddered and clutched her to him. "They _broke _you. I could see you looking at me while they held you down and forced you, did things to you. Your eyes were completely blank, as if you were Tranquil. But I saw your mouth moving, telling me 'you did this to me. It's your fault, Anders, all your fault'. And _it was_, Aria. You were there because of something _I _did."

So that was it. His nightmare had been of her. Aria ignored the unease roiling in the pit of her stomach and focused on her lover, who had resumed crying. "That isn't going to happen, Anders. Even if the templars did manage to take me, I wouldn't blame you. And they aren't going to take me. Cullen would never be able to live with himself if I was forced into the Gallows."

"But if I lose control - "

"You won't," she interrupted. "You're a fighter, love. If anybody can control a spirit like Justice, it's you."

He was silent, tense despite her efforts at comforting him. "How can you have such faith in me?" he finally asked, his voice pleading. "I almost killed that girl. I could turn on you someday, and not stop in time. I couldn't live with myself if that happened, Aria."

She kissed him softly on the cheek and guided him down, sitting against the headboard and arranging him so his head was pillowed against her breasts. "I trust you because you stopped yourself," she explained. "What you _almost _did isn't important. All that matters is what you did do, and you didn't kill Ella. You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for, Anders. That's why I know you'll never turn on me. You'll never let Justice hurt me."

"I wish I had your optimism," he mumbled into her left breast.

Aria combed her fingers through his hair again. "Then I'll be optimistic for us both. Sleep, love. I'll guard your dreams now."

Anders settled into a more mutually comfortable position, using her stomach as his pillow. As he drifted off, Aria reflected on their conversation.

She had not lied when she expressed the depths of her love and trust. Anders would never allow his violent compatriot to harm her, not just because she was a fellow mage. But that only applied while he was awake, as she had discovered some weeks ago.

Justice had confronted her once, shortly after Anders moved in with her. Aria had woken thanks to the light pressure of a hand clamped around her throat, and opened her eyes to find those of the Fade spirit glaring down at her. He had asked her what she intended now that Anders had laid aside their cause. She had told him that she wanted to give him some of the normalcy he wanted for all mages, the love and peace he craved. She also wanted justice for her fellow spellcasters, but not if it continued tearing her lover apart. Evidently her reply had satisfied Justice, because the threatening hand had been removed and the shared body laid down, the eyes closing as Anders' sleeping mind was given back control.

She had never told Anders about the confrontation. He had enough fears as it was.

Aria did not know if her lover could retain control over the spirit, although she suspected it was within his capabilities. But so long as he was still in evidence, even if it was the merest scrap of him, she would stand by his side.

But if Justice should ever swallow him in full, leaving no trace of the man she loved...

Aria looked at her hand and let cool blue fire flare at her fingertips, stream down her digits to collect in her palm. With a glance at Anders' serene countenance, she dismissed the magic and leaned her head back, closing her eyes.

It was the final kindness she could offer, if all hope was ever lost.


	4. A Slightly Awkward Conversation

**Summary: **What happens between Anders and Aria is for nobody's eyes but their own. Some lemons, mainly drabbles of various types. Chapter 2 onward.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the unsated desire for more skin in DA2.

**Queen's Quornor: **I finally decided to give in and slap all my Anders/Aria oneshots into one story. The only theme is going to be their love, and the various ways it manifests. Honestly, these two are talking to me a lot more right now than Sebastian and Kilaen. Might as well follow where the muses take me!

A Slightly Awkward Conversation

Anders heaved a sigh as he latched the door behind him. It was a relief to be home, considering the day he had just had. Three babies, five cases of advanced illness, two broken arms, one boy with a dislocated shoulder, and one seneschal suffering from crotch-pox. It had been unbelievably hectic, especially without Aria there to help. She was a decent healer, though nowhere near his calibur. He had sorely missed her today.

But his partner had been called away to the Keep this morning. The message had come from Aveline, who apparently wanted her help in something outside the guard's scope. Anders wondered if she was still there or had returned to the estate yet. All he wanted to do was eat and spend some time with her, just relaxing.

Bodahn greeted him as he entered the main hall, and he went to ask the dwarf if Aria was back. "No, messere. Mistress Hawke's been gone all day. Only came back a few hours ago to leave her dog." He nodded to Boudicca, in her customary place before the fire.

"She's been out since then?" Anders inquired. He wasn't entirely surprised. Aria hated staying in the estate when there was so much to do.

"Apparently she arranged something for Mistress Vallen at the Hanged Man."

"Then she could be out all night." He let out a sigh as his shoulders slumped. It sounded like falling asleep with her in his arms was out of the question tonight. "Is there any dinner left?"

"Orana left some stew for you and Mistress Hawke, messere. It's on the table." Bodahn bowed slightly and returned to gathering runes into a box. A certain young savant had been hard at work again, it seemed.

Orana had already retired, but the stewpot remained hot thanks to a rune Sandal had inscribed on the kitchen table. Anders fetched a bowl and removed the pot lid, feeling his mouth water at the savory scent of beef and vegetables. He dipped a healthy serving from the pot and replaced the lid, taking a seat at the table once he grabbed a spoon. Eagerly the mage filled the utensil and brought it to his lips.

"Anders, may I have a word?"

His stomach growled in protest, but Anders lowered the spoon back into the bowl and looked to the doorway. Leandra stood just inside the portal, her hands folded demurely before her. "Of course. What's on your mind?" he asked. The gnawing hunger in his gut could wait.

The older lady went to the chair nearest him and sat down, giving him the appraising look he used to receive so often from her daughter. It was a moment before she spoke.

"What exactly are your intentions towards my daughter?"

"I'm not going to leave her in the middle of the night, if that's what you're asking," the mage replied, trying not to fidget. No man enjoyed having this conversation, even his lover's mother was not going to rip him a new one.

Leandra fixed him with a steady stare. "I already knew that. I've seen the way you look at her, and it's the same expression my husband would wear while we were courting. What I would like to know is your plans. Do you intend to merely live under the same roof? Or do you forsee yourself marrying my daughter and taking her name?" A small jab, since Anders had long since abandoned his family name.

Anders thought about his reply, wondering how to express his fears to a woman who had been in a similar situation decades before. "I want the best for Aria, more than anything. Her love means the world to me. Yet if it came to a choice between her safety and my happiness, I would put her first. So while I would certainly be open to the concept of marriage, I'm not sure it's entirely wise for us, at least for the time being. We are both known apostates. The Chantry would never agree to a formal union." He stirred his stew around, watching the candlelight shimmer in the broth. "Living together is enough of a stretch for us both right now. We'll risk more later, if we can."

Leandra's soft laughter drew his attention away from his troubles, making him raise his brows at his partner's mother. "What's so funny?"

"Forgive me, Anders," she chuckled, putting a hand over her mouth. "It's just that you sound so much like Malcolm. He used to say that it was enough just to know that I loved him, even if we couldn't be together." She smiled wistfully, her eyes distant. "But eventually, it wasn't enough. He asked me to run away with him to Ferelden, so we could be together in exile. We were able to marry there, and spent most of our life together on the road. My children were all born in inns, not actual houses. But it was fine, because we were together."

"Where was Aria born?" Anders interrupted. "Do you remember?"

"I do." Leandra's lips curved, her countenance softening in memory. "She drew her first breath at a small inn by Lake Calenhad, just a stone's throw from Kinloch Hold. I was in labor for nearly two days; Malcolm said it was because I wouldn't calm down. There was an off-duty templar in the common room downstairs, and I was terrified that he would realize my husband was an apostate and drag him to the Circle before our first child was even born. I didn't deliver until that knight finally left."

The Spoiled Princess. It used to have a different name, but the inn itself had been there for decades. Anders had often looked at it from the Tower's grounds when he was younger. It was strange to think that he had been watching the same building that had witnessed the birth of his partner.

"Were you ever captured?" Hearing Leandra's story made him think that maybe it was possible, for him and Aria to be happy and free on the road. How had Malcolm done it? How had he kept not only himself, but his two magically-gifted daughters safe from templars for all those years?

She shook her head. "There was one time when Bethany almost got caught. We had stopped for the night, and I was making supper while the children were playing on the road beside the wagon. Her magic was only just emerging, and as you probably know she didn't have much control over it. A pair of templars came by, bound for the nearby village. Bethany waved at them, and something popped under the younger man's foot. It gave him quite a fright. It wasn't flashy, just noisy, and the templars didn't investigate us, but it terrified me all the same. Malcolm started training her alongside Aria the next day."

Anders cocked his head at her. "You know, that's the first time I've heard you use her first name. I thought I was the only one to call her that."

"There's not much need to use her name if I'm speaking to her," the lady demurred.

"Point taken." He looked down at his cooling stew.

Leandra reached out and patted his hand companionably. "I'm happy the two of you found each other. Aria was so unhappy before she met you, and since Varric introduced you she's been in better spirits than ever. If you ever decide to chance marriage with my daughter, know that you have my blessing."

Anders felt his chest tighten. He had told himself that he would love Aria regardless of what other people thought, but a part of him had hungered for Leandra's approval. It was good to know that she liked him. "Thank you," he replied quietly. "That means a lot, especially considering what I am."

She gave him one of her kind, matronly smiles. "You're a good man, Anders, and you are one of the best things to happen to my daughter in years. Maker willing, you'll also be a good father, in time."

He stilled, unable to face her now. Barring some extremely potent fertility tonics or rituals, there was little chance he could give Aria children. That was part of the price he had paid to become a Grey Warden four years ago. It had not mattered at the time, but now the loss provided a constant dull ache in his heart. Perhaps, if Justice ever let him live for himself, he and Aria could adopt. It wasn't the same, but it was something. Natural children would always be the one thing Anders could not give his partner, unaided.

"Do you think otherwise?" Leandra asked.

"I'm not sure that I can." Anders blew a sigh. "Grey Wardens are not known for being fruitful. If you want a family, you must start it before you join the order, because your chances are dramatically decreased afterward."

"How many Wardens are actually married, or manage to take lovers?" she queried. "Pregnancies are not easy to get, even for a fertile couple. But even if you and my daughter don't have children, I could still have grandchildren. Templars are not required to lead celibate lives. Carver could still meet somebody and start a family."

"From what I understand, that's not so far-fetched. He seems quite popular with the ladies." Anders hid his smile, remembering the night he, Aria, and Isabela had gone to the Blooming Rose on an investigation and found Carver in a rather compromising situation with Idunna, the woman they had been given as a lead.

"So long as it's not a girl like that Peaches, I'm happy," Leandra muttered. "I thought he had better taste than that slattern. But after that letter she sent, I discovered I was quite wrong."

The mage shrugged. He and Carver had never gotten along, particularly after the boy joined the templars. A few days after moving in with his lover, Anders had received a visit from Aria's little brother and been threatened with a severe ass-kicking if he ever hurt her. Thankfully, that had been the only templar visit he had suffered. Carver knew what his sister would do to him if he ever turned in her man.

"I think being in the Order has introduced him to a number of suitable ladies," he finally allowed. "Maybe you'll have some grandchildren sooner than you think."

Leandra smiled and rose from the table. "I don't know, Anders. But I will keep praying for your and my daughter's happiness. You both deserve all the joy in the world, considering what you've already been through." They both looked to the entrance as a door slammed and Boudicca barked, answered by Aria's mirthful voice. "Well, I should be getting to bed now. Just do an old lady a favor and keep the noise down? A thumping headboard is not conducive to a good night's rest, you know."

Anders felt his eyebrows shoot into his hairline and he stared as the aging noblewoman left the kitchen. Moments later Aria burst through the door, a grin illuminating her pretty face. She grabbed a bowl and spoon of her own before he had a chance to greet her.

"You'll never guess what Aveline wanted!" she proclaimed, ladling some stew for herself. "You'll also have to thank her for wasting my night at the Hanged Man, drinking with Donnic. Because of her, he thinks I have a thing for him!"

Anders listened to his partner's chatter, finally dipping into his stew. Leandra's comments gave him something to consider, especially the hints about children. He had never thought of himself as a father before meeting Aria, but now he couldn't help imagining what sort of offspring they might produce.

He watched her gesticulate, describing some gift Aveline had wanted given to Donnic, and hurriedly finished his dinner. That done, he got up and went to her seat. His love squealed in surprise as he swept her into his arms and headed for the stairs, kicking the kitchen door shut behind him.

If they couldn't have children, it certainly wouldn't be for lack of trying.


	5. I Swear

**Summary: **What happens between Anders and Aria is for nobody's eyes but their own. Some lemons, mainly drabbles of various types. Chapter 2 onward.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the unsated desire for more skin in DA2.

**Queen's Quornor: **I really don't know how this hasn't come up yet somewhere. Anders refers to Hawke as his partner after they move in together, yet everyone treats it as an informal arrangement? For a guy as obsessed with _not _being tied down as Anders is, it seems to me that if he's going to commit to somebody, it's going to be a lifetime thing. So I bet the whole "living beneath one roof" thing isn't going to cut it for him after awhile. The Marcher blessing that I refer to is simply a spin I've put on the wedding ceremony, wherein the first (best) man and maid of honor give the bride and groom an informal blessing of the "may your marriage be fruitful and happy, and may your days be filled with love and laughter" variety. I've already thought up a Dalish wedding rite, based on Native American traditions; my guess is that different regions would have different variations on the basic Chantry ceremony. Kinda like how Greek Orthodox weddings involve walking around the altar before the kiss and wearing wreaths, and the basic Christian wedding merely involves lengthy vows and hand-holding. I also think that there wouldn't be a happy ending for someone who fell for Anders. I doubt he'd want to just end his life by letting the taint turn him into a ghoul, so he probably would go to Orzammar and go down fighting. That would be the worst pain for Hawke, especially if it was a lady Hawke. He might concede to letting Garrett Hawke go with him, but not Marian. I originally wanted to put a love scene in here, but realized that it was not necessary to get the point across. Maybe the next chapter will have a lemon, but this one is all about their bond.

I Swear

Maker, she was beautiful.

It was supposed to be Aveline's special day. She and Donnic were finally getting married, after nearly three years of off-duty courtship and clandestine meetings in the captain's office. He should be watching the happy bride descend the staircase to join her betrothed and the Chantry mother who would perform the ceremony. But all he saw was his Aria.

Aveline had asked only two of her friends to be bridesmaids. Aria was the first choice, which was not all that surprising given the close relationship shared by the two women. But her other choice, Isabela, had raised some eyebrows. The guard-captain had explained that she merely wished to see "the whore" in a respective light, for once. Thus Isabela trod behind Aria, trying not to step on her hem.

While she was not the bride, in Anders' eyes his lover far outshone Aveline. She and Isabela had been coerced into wearing gowns of emerald silk trimmed with gold embroidery. The cut of the dresses left their shoulders bare and dipped just enough to show the beginning of their cleavage, and the skirts were long enough to drag along the floor behind them in a very short, tasteful tent of a train. Isabela looked comely enough in the ensemble, but with her coloring Aria took the healer's breath away. Her scarlet hair hung long and loose in carefully crafted waves, partially drawn behind her back in a fall of tousles. She had added a diamond solitaire necklace to the outfit, which drew Anders' attention directly to the curves of her breasts. Aria looked softer, more sophisticated than he had ever seen her, and her violet eyes shone as Aveline took her place beside Donnic before the hearth.

He could not help wondering if she would look so sweetly vulnerable if it was her wedding instead of her oldest friend's.

Anders settled into his seat, watching the ceremony. He had not been asked to be one of Donnic's ushers. Fenris was standing opposite Aria as the first man, with one of the guards fidgeting behind him. The healer had thrown a fit when he was told that the elf would be Aria's escort in the ceremony; he had finally calmed when she reminded him that Fenris was merely her friend whereas he, Anders, held her heart and shared her life. Donnic had chosen the elf because of the easy friendship fostered by weekly matches of diamondback in both the dusty mansion and the Hanged Man. The guardsman was not very familiar with Anders, and it was his day as much as Aveline's. He had a right to pick whomever he wanted for his ushers.

Truth be told, Anders was happy that Fenris had gotten the job. The charcoal-grey tunic and pants he wore did not look terribly comfortable, and if it was him up there, somebody would have to remind him when to give Donnic the rings. He would be too busy staring at Aria. Fenris, on the other hand, could keep his composure.

That left Anders free to eyeball his lover and finalize some plans of his own. While the happy couple repeated the vows fed them by the mother, and Aria and Fenris recited the traditional Marcher blessings for the union, he fingered two objects within a pouch on his belt.

The ceremony was concluded without a hitch, although Donnic missed Aveline's finger twice with the ring. The mother blessed them and their union, and the couple kissed to generous applause from the small audience of assorted friends and acquaintances. Donnic's mother, Anders noticed, could not stop crying into her handkerchief. The couple then led the way into the basement of the Hawke estate, followed by the ushers escorting the bridesmaids and the crowd.

The largest room in the cellars, once used to store enormous wine casks, had been converted into a feasthall for the occasion, complete with dancefloor. Aria had spared no expense for her friend, hiring the best musicians in Kirkwall and enlisting the former viscount's own chef to prepare the meal. The remnants of the Amell family's wine collection were tapped and flowed freely. Varric seemed beyond words when he took the time to figure out the total cost of this feast. But Aria did not give one damn about the bill, so long as a good time was had by all. She had more than enough sovreigns saved from her adventures and the Bone Pit's profits to make this the greatest day of Aveline's life, without driving herself into bankruptcy.

Once the speeches were over and the guests suitably distracted, Anders rose form his seat in search of his lover. Her chair beside Aveline had been vacant since the roast pig was unveiled, but he had a fair idea of her location.

As he walked through the cellars, Anders thought about what he was going to say. This could not sound like a marriage proposal. Champion though she was, Aria was still an apostate, as was he. The Chantry would sooner deny Andraste than allow them to unite in the Maker's sight as man and wife. Not even Sebastian would perform the ceremony, in spite of his dealings with them. Even if they could be wed, Meredith would most likely eat her armor before allowing the marriage to stand.

Still, he had to make it clear that he would remain beside her and be loyal, no matter where life took them. She already knew he loved her, but it was time to reveal the depths of his devotions.

As he expected, he found his lover in her family's vault. She was sitting on one of the metal-bound chests with her head propped in one hand, arcing silver lightning between the fingers of the other. Anders watched from the doorway while she sent the electricity dancing above her fingertips and crawling down her naked arm, creating complex patterns atop her flesh. He had a flair for lightning himself, but Aria used it in such a way that he could only call it artistry.

"It's a pity nobody else will ever see that," he commented. "I think even the Maker would be enchanted by your lightning displays."

"It's a gift." Aria spread her hand flat and bade the electricity gather into a sparking ball, then sent it in a crackling fork to a suit of dusty armor in the corner. "I suppose you want me to go back down there."

"I didn't say that." Ander leaned against the armoire beside her, resting one hand on the belt-pouch. "But I do get the impression that something is wrong."

She heaved a sigh. "It's just... Am I a horrible person? I mean, I'm the honored maid. I should be feeling happy for Aveline and Donnic, especially after what happened with Wesley. But I look at them and I just can't help wishing that it was _us _in their place, that this wedding was ours, not theirs." She ran a hand through her crimson hair and looked at him, shame filling her eyes. "I know we can't marry, but Maker knows I wish we could."

He closed his eyes. He knew exactly how she felt, right down to the guilt. "You know, there might be a way for us to make this a special day for us. It's not a marriage, but it's something."

Aria looked at him, confused and intrigued. Anders felt something warm in his chest at her expression. "What do you have in mind?"

"It's not all that different from the wedding." He knelt before her on the tiles, pulling two plain rings from his pouch. "We simply say what we feel, and promise to keep doing so. I'll go first."

He cleared his throat and took her hand, meeting her eyes. "I love you. You are the one light in my world, my guiding star and the most important person in my life. You remind me who I am, and give me the strength to face each day. I can only continue my fight because of your love and support. You are the reason I haven't lost myself to the vengeance inside me." He gently spread her fingers, slipping one of the golden bands onto her fourth digit. "I swear I will remain at your side so long as I may, and so long as you'll have me. No matter what, my love and my loyalty are yours alone."

He kissed her knuckles, feeling the fine tremor running through her hand. "I've run away from a lot of things, my love. But this is the one thing from which I'll never try to escape. Until we both are ashes in the wind, I am with you."

Aria wiped at her eyes with her free hand, smearing her golden eyeshadow back to her hairline. Anders offered her the second ring. She took it and cradled his left hand between her palms, smiling at the tenderness in his amber eyes.

"I doubt I could ever express how much you mean to me. I love you enough to leave everything behind, should it come to that. I would risk anything, even my life, if it meant your safety. With you at my side, I know there is nothing I can't face." She slid the ring onto his finger, blinking through her tears. "I'll never abandon you, and I'll never love anybody else. My heart already lies in your keeping, and I have trusted you with my life for years. My love and loyalty belong to you, until the sky falls and the oceans rise to swallow us all."

Suitably dramatic, but fitting, Anders reflected as he gathered her into his arms. Everything about their relationship was dramatic in some way. Why should their fidelity vows be any different? He lowered his head to hers, sealing their bond with a loving kiss.

After many minutes of tender kisses, she broke away to cuddle against him, burying her nose in the crook of his neck. "Think we should go back?" she murmured.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her hair. "We should. Many of the guests will be heartily disappointed if they can't ask you for a dance, and Aveline will be upset if we don't see her and Donnic off on their wedding night. I don't particularly want the guard-captain miffed at me."

"You know I'll always protect you," she teased. He helped her to her feet, although her hand remained clasped in his. "But if Aveline somehow turns into a dragon, you're on your own."

He could not help laughing at the thought.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"You concentrate on enjoying yourself, understand? Cullen can handle the guard while you're gone." Aria let herself be folded into a bone-cracking hug by Aveline, returning the embrace with equal fierceness. "Have fun in Orlais."

"I will, Hawke. You keep an eye on Cullen for me, all right? I won't have him putting on airs and commanding the guard as he would the templars." The happy bride held the Champion a minute longer, then released her and stepped back to join Donnic. "Make sure the city doesn't fall apart while we're gone."

"I promise, I'll save any real crisis for your return," Aria told her with a cheeky grin. "Now get going! The night's not getting any younger."

"I think that's our cue, love," Donnic remarked with a faint smile. He set his hands on his new wife's shoulders and leaned her back against him so her gaze met his. "Shall we?"

Aveline grinned and drew away, walking towards the door. "Let's. Hawke, thank you so much for all this. If there's any way I can repay you - "

The apostate held up her hand. "No need, Aveline. It's enough to see you so happy after all this time."

The couple was seen out with minimal fanfare, considering the crowd outside. Aria closed the door and leaned against it, exhausted by the wedding banquet. She had not danced so much in years, nor had to put up with so many joyous drunks in such a concentrated area.

Besides, with the smoldering looks Anders kept giving her throughout the evening, it was a wonder she had held out as long as she had.

She latched the door and took a deep breath, twisting the simple gold ring on her left hand. This was really no different from any other passionate night they had shared. The had been living together for nearly three years now, so this would be nothing new.

Yet at the same time, it was. Before, there had always been a way out, a back door to exit the relationship if the thought of commitment became too much. They had both been free to walk away if they so wished. Now, with two plain rings and some words spoken from the depths of their souls, everything had changed.

She was still Aria, and he was still Anders. But now they were life partners, not just two apostates living and loving together. It was not a marriage, but it was similarly binding.

It was frightening and exciting, to know that they belonged only to each other in a way they hadn't before. This was commitment and it was scary. But it was only a formality. The vow and rings only reinforced something they already shared.

Despite knowing this, Aria could not help feeling like a bride herself.

Steeling herself, she began to climb the stairs. At the top, her purple eyes fell upon the door to her mother's room and a stab of old grief flashed through her chest. Her mother would be so proud if she knew how her eldest child had turned out. She would probably plan the grandest clandestine wedding in the history of Kirkwall for her and Anders, and begin gently prodding them to start a family that same night.

Aria smiled. _That _wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary. Her mother had made it quite clear that she hoped to be a grandmother. Aria had a secret wish to bear Anders' children, but she understood the odds of that happening. In all likelihood, Carver would be the one to continue the Hawke line, not her.

She shook that thought away and went to her room, slowly pulling the door open.

Anders had seated himself on the bed with a silver decanter and two goblets. Stripped down to his trousers, the firelight from the hearth licked over his lean body in teasing flickers, highlighting his arms and back with golden radiance. His Tevinter Chantry amulet, a gift long kept secret between them, gleamed above his heart. "I thought you could use some wine to relax," he said, raising one of the goblets. "You didn't look like you were enjoying being whirled about like a dervish in those guards' arms."

"If you knew how to dance, that wouldn't have been an issue." She gave him a fond smile to show she was merely teasing, and set about divesting herself of her finery. "Maker, I hate getting all dolled up like this. Why can't people just wear regular clothes to weddings? Skirts are so much more comfortable than sodding dresing."

"It wouldn't be as special, I suppose." Aria felt the burn of his ambers eyes on her as she undressed, leaving her gown on the floor and kicking her fancy shoes across the room. Heels would never be as comfortable as boots, as far as she was concerned. "Would it make you feel any better if I told you that you look absolutely breathtaking in that dress?"

"You can. But seeing as how you once told me I look breathtaking even showered in the blood of my enemies, I'll just take your statement with a grain of salt." Clad only in her smalls, Aria undid her hair from its elaborate arrangement and walked over to the bed, swaying her hips enticingly so her lover's eyes followed. Anders hitched himself against the pillows and smiled. She took the hint and settled herself between his legs, her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her while she took her goblet from his hand and sipped at its contents. "Good vintage. You really know your wines."

"I wish I could give you more," Anders confessed, his voice hushed. She rested the goblet upon her thigh, biting back the teasing reply that had leapt to mind at his words. "You deserve a real husband, not a wanted man."

"When are you going to believe me? A marriage is nothing without love." She took another drink of the wine, letting it trickled down her throat to warm her belly. "I'm happy with you, love. Besides, does this mean nothing?" She held up her hand so her ring caught the light.

"It means more than I can express. But what kills me is that I can't offer you more." He hugged her tight, resting his cheek atop her head. "Your parents were unbelievably fortunate to be married in the Chantry, regardless of the circumstances surrounding their union. I'll never be more than your life partner."

He was getting melancholic again. Aria swallowed the remainder of her wine and put the vessel aside with its partner and the decanter, turning so she faced him. "Anders, I have been on the run from templars all my life, and I've never run alone. There was always my father or my sister to keep me company. But they're gone, and you're with me now. The only difference is that you are my lover and partner, and our prescence is an open secret. You and I both know that's going to change one day, and you also know that I'm not afraid." She stroked her hand along his jaw, watching his eyes fill. "So long as I have you, I'll never want for anything. I love you."

"And I love you. Maker help me, but I do." He crushed her to him, hiding his face against her hair. "It's so selfish, but I can't live without you. That's why I gave you the ring; it tells the world that you are mine, and I am yours."

"I'll wear it proudly," she promised, pressing a kiss to his chest. She hugged him reassuringly and laid her head against him, reflecting upon their relationship. He had always been the only man she allowed into her heart. They held similar opinions about their fellow mages and the role of the Circle and templars, and what had once been a friendship had long since grown into something so much more precious. Anders had said it first, but from their first meeting it had felt as though they had always known each other, all their lives. There had always been a level of comfort with him that she had not felt with any of their companions. Even with Aveline, she kept a part of herself in reserve.

Yet they had so little time, she thought, nestling her cheek against his heart. As a Grey Warden, his life was destined to be cut short. Even if he somehow kept Justice at bay and remained free of the templars, she would eventually lose him to the taint in his blood. "It's not fair," she murmured aloud.

"What's not fair?"

She sat back to look into his eyes, twisting herself so she sat with her legs around his waist. "I wish we had met before you joined the Wardens. If we had, then things would be different. We could marry and raise a family, not spend every day worrying about getting dragged into the Gallows. You wouldn't have that spirit in your head, running you into the ground without a care for what you want. We could be together and it would just be us, nobody else."

A sad, rueful smile pulled at his lips and his eyes became soft. "Or we might not have gotten this far. I don't know if you would have liked the old me, sweetheart. I was a womanizing, irreverant ass."

"I can deal with asses. Just look at my brother." A sigh escaped her and she took his hand, playing with his fingers. "It's just that I'm going to lose you someday, because of your time with the Wardens. We can turn the entire world upside down, get rid of every templar and anti-mage faction, dissolve every Circle, miraculously separate you from Justice, and still have only twenty-some years to spend together." She blinked, watching his fingers blur. "Someday you'll leave me to go fight in the Deep Roads, and I'll never see you again."

His fingers threaded into her hair, and he pulled her into a close embrace. Aria wrapped her arms around his back, hiding her tears against the curve of his neck. "We both knew there would be no lifetime of happiness for us when we started this, my love. But I know how you feel. A piece of me cries whenever I think about what will happen to us." His hands tightened on her waist and hair. "That's another reason why I wanted us to swear our love. When we finally must part, there will always be that moment for us. You will know that I loved you, no matter what."

She sobbed and clutched him to her, feeling the weight of the ring around her finger. The ring was a symbol of their bond, a reminder they both would always carry with them. "I want to go with you, when you must depart," she confessed.

"No, Aria. You can't come with me." He pulled back to look at her, cradling her cheek in his hand and brushing her tears with his thumb. She felt the warm metal of his ring and more tears came spilling from her eyes. "The darkspawn don't kill females who are not Grey Wardens. They force them to eat their tainted dead, and make them into Broodmothers. They swell up and become these bloated monstrosities, forever feeding and giving birth to more darkspawn. It's the most horrific caricature of life I have ever seen. I don't want to leave you, but I would sooner bring the Deep Roads down atop us than let them make you into one of those things."

"So you won't let me remain with you when your Calling comes." She covered his hand with hers, pressing his palm flush against the side of her face. "I'm going to die when you leave. You realize that, right?"

Anders slid his arms back around her. She felt a wetness against her scalp and her heart shuddered at his pain. "I would rather you live for us both. Just promise me one thing, my love."

"Anything," she swore.

"You really need to learn to listen to my terms before you give your word." He dragged in a shaking breath. "Promise me that you won't take your own life. The Chantry says that suicides are destined only for the Void, not peace by the Maker's side. I can't stand the thought of spending eternity without you."

"I figured I'd make enough noise that the Divine would send an army of templars after me, and I'd take as many of the bastards with me as I can. Strike a blow for mages everywhere." That got a chuckle out of him, even as the tears continued. "To be honest, I'm not going to retire and wait for old age to take me. I'll go down fighting, and I won't be far behind you."

"I should argue that I prefer you alive and safe, but..." He tipped her head up and covered her mouth with his, kissing her desperately. "Thank you."

"You'll never be alone, love. Not even when this life is finished." Aria trailed one hand down his arm, lacing her fingers with his. "This is supposed to be our night, and here we are discussing death when we should be celebrating our life together."

He kissed her again, holding her close with his free arm. "Let me distract you, then."

She fell into his kiss, caressing his lips with her own and opening her mouth for his tongue. As he laid her down and began transforming her sorrow into arousal, she closed her eyes and sent a heartfelt plea to the distant Maker.

_Please, give me something more than a ring to remember him. Give us a child. _


	6. It's Mutual

**Summary: **What happens between Anders and Aria is for nobody's eyes but their own. Some lemons, mainly drabbles of various types. Chapter 2 onward.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the unsated desire for more skin in DA2.

**Queen's Quornor:** Originally this was just Anders and Aria, but then a third character snuck in. I find it quite cliche that Hawke is the only person who kills the high dragon, regardless who strikes the final blow. This is the case even when s/he's unconscious and out of the fight! So my thought was, this has to be fixed. That leads us here, to this installment. Also, Kionalil was my first Dalish Warden, and she's the character I had in mind when I wrote the opening chapter of "First Love."

It's Mutual

_You never know how lucky you are until you lose what you most cherish._

Kionalil's words echoed in Anders' mind as he sat by Aria's side, watching the rise and fall of her chest beneath the blankets. She had taken a nasty hit from the dragon they had fought at the ruins of the Bone Pit. Aria had darted behind the reptile in an attempt to freeze its hind legs and limit its mobility, but the massive tail had caught her just before the spell took shape. She had been flicked high into the air, soaring in a frighteningly graceful arc until she collided with the stony cliffs ringing the Pit's lower reaches. Fenris and Sebastian had killed the dragon, while Anders' eyes had been glued to the small body rolling down the sharp spurs of rock. She had been folded into a broken heap when he finally reached her, rich dark blood seeping into the dust around her and dripping from the jags adorning the cliff. He had been afraid to touch her, had experienced a paralyzing dread that he would not be able to save the person who mattered the most. As Darktown's only healer he hated feeling so helpless, but had been unable to act. At last he had managed to put aside his irrational fear because of Fenris; the elf had knelt beside her and laid his fingertips atop her torn shoulder, then met Anders' eyes with a gaze that mirrored his terror.

Aria was finally healed, but she had yet to regain consciousness. After her magical mending, the men had carried her back to Kirkwall on a blanket from somebody's bedroll, or perhaps a tent canvas - Anders wasn't exactly certain. He had been too preoccupied with staring at her ashen face, too numb to fully acknowledge what had happened. The mage was not even sure how they had gotten from the Bone Pit to their shared estate.

He wrapped his arms about himself and shuddered. She was alive - that was all that mattered. The dragon was dead, the mines destroyed, and Hubert still waited in the market for an explanation. When she woke up, Aria would stalk down to his stand and inform the prissy Orlesian that a high dragon had massacred her countrymen, jabbing her fingers into his puffy shirt with every word. Her violet eyes would spark with fury if he started whining about his precious equipment and investments, and her entire body would go rigid as she fought her temper, wanting nothing more than to place her hand against Hubert's chest and -

Maker, what if she didn't wake up? Anders was a talented healer, but what if he had missed a concussion or a gash on the base of her skull? Head injuries were notoriously difficult to repair, and the effects were often beyond a mage's control. She might forget things, lose control over specific functions and behaviors, or even her identity and all of her memories. But that would still be a more welcome alternative to her laying in a coma, never to wake.

If she died...

Anders stared at the fire blazing in the hearth, feeling something cold spread throughout his chest. If she died, there was no point in living. Aria was the light of his life. Without her there was no joy, no love, no peace. There would be no sanity, as he would lose himself in the midst of his grief. His anchor would be gone, leaving Anders to swirl into the maelstrom of anger and vengeance Justice would create.

Worse, he would _allow _it to happen. Justice would take control so Anders could sleep, alone in the blackness with his broken heart.

"How is she?"

He jerked at the gravely voice and turned his head to the side, grateful for any escape from his black musings. Fenris stood inside the doorway, his face expressionless but his posture radiating anxiety.

"Nothing's changed. She hasn't woken up yet." He beckoned to the elf, inviting him to sit on the bed. "I can't believe this happened to her. I would have expected you to take a hit like that, since you were the one fighting that lizard up close."

Fenris settled at the foot of the bed, resting against one of the posts. He gazed at Anders across Aria's legs. "Is it really so unexpected? Hawke takes chances most mages wouldn't dare on a regular basis. She enjoys flirting with death. I'm more surprised that she didn't charge it head-on."

Anders nodded. That was definitely something his Aria would do. Her approach to battle was better suited to a warrior than a mage. "I think the only reason she didn't is because leather is no match for a dragon's teeth."

"I've never before met a mage who wanted to learn swordplay. She's been pestering me to teach her." Fenris turned sad jade eyes upon her face. "I thought the idea was ludicrous. But if she comes to, I would happily teach her everything I know."

Anders watched the elf for a moment, trying to guage the emotions racing through his eyes. "You love her, don't you?"

"Don't expect me to try and supplant you. I'm not that sort of man." He let out a sigh and something akin to regret passed over his face. "I suppose I do, in a sense. I would give my life to defend her. Of all my associates, she is the one I value most. I hate seeing her in pain." His eyes slid to Anders, and the mage was surprised to note the distinct lack of hatred therein. He and Fenris had _never_ gotten along before. "That's why I've never said anything about the two of you. It would hurt Hawke if I damaged her happiness, and after everything she has suffered I wish her nothing but joy. Even if it is with somebody else," he added, turning away.

The mage stared at him. "What about Isabela? Aren't the two of you seeing each other?" he finally managed.

The nearest corner of Fenris' mouth tipped upward in what appeared to be a rueful smile. "We are not lovers. We are - how did she put it? Oh yes - 'friends with benefits'. Once she loses interest in me, it will end. In the interm, what we share is a comfortable outlet for our needs." His eyes closed and he sighed again. "A part of me wonders how things would be if I had been the one she chose. What would have happened if I was in your place, always by her side and in her heart?"

"I would be the one asking that question, most likely. But considering your view on the mages' plight, I bet there would be a lot of tension in your time together."

The elf shrugged. The firelight danced across his skin, catching the brilliance of his markings so they seemed to ripple in their inactivity. Anders had to admit he envied him for his exotic looks, despite knowing that he hardly lacked in that area himself. "Since meeting her, I've begun to question what I believed to be truth. Hawke is nothing like the magisters I have seen. There seems to be very little that will send her into a demon's hold. I respect her." He sent a sly look Anders' way. "So I doubt our relationship would be as tumultuous as you might think."

Anders looked to the ring on her motionless hand, twin to the one he wore. "Forgive me if I remain satisfied in her decision and my place in her life."

Fenris did not rise to the bait. Instead his gaze roamed over her too-still form and he exhaled slowly. "She will awaken. Hawke is one of the strongest people I know, and after everything she has accomplished she won't let a high dragon end her. There is still the dispute with the mages and the templars to mediate."

"Which is a joy in and of itself." Anders spread his hands wide. "I have done what I can to heal her body. Whether she wakes or not is her call."

"Knowing Hawke, she'll be back on her feet by tomorrow."

The mage looked at his rival, feeling a sudden kinship with him. Their roles could easily have been reversed, with Fenris taking the central placement in Aria's private life while he pined on the sidelines, distracting himself however he could so as not to impede her happiness. But now, for once, they were equals. Neither was capable of bringing their beloved leader back to consciousness. The most they could do was hold vigil over her.

Which they did, with their mutual dislike forgotten in the midst of worry and prayers for the woman they both cherished.


	7. Consequences

**Summary: **What happens between Anders and Aria is for nobody's eyes but their own. Some lemons, mainly drabbles of various types. Chapter 2 onward.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the unsated desire for more skin in DA2.

**Queen's Quornor:** This has been, hands-down, the chapter that has taken me the longest to write of any I have ever written. I've had this plotbunny hopping around in my head for more than a year about what would happen if Sebastian caught up to Anders and Hawke, and one of my reviewers gave me a secondary idea about it when she mentioned how much she hoped Hawke would get preggers. That eventually turned into this. Hopefully the next chapter won't take nearly so long to get out of my head and down on paper.

Consequences

"...and thus you, maleficar Anders, are sentenced to death tomorrow at dawn."

"No!" Aria strained against the hands of the templars holding her, her violet eyes saturated in desperation. "You can't do this! He isn't a maleficar!"  
>"He is responsible for the demise of Grand Cleric Elthina, and all the priests and adherents present at the time of the explosion." Sebastian slid cold blue eyes across her, his silver band of a crown gleaming harshly in the flickering light of the candlebra. Resplendent in his white-enameled armor and the blue cloak of a crowned prince, he presented a vision of righteous royalty. To Fenris, leaning against the shadowed wall where he could watch the proceedings, this Sebastian cut a significantly different figure from the would-be priest he had known a few years ago. He looked harder, less forgiving or accepting than he recalled. This was a Sebastian who devoted himself not to living by the Chantry's laws, but according to his vengeance.<p>

"He is to be a father! Surely you would not deprive an unborn infant its sire?"

The harsh frown deepened. "Were I you, I would worry less about his life than your own, Hawke."

Fenris bit his cheek to keep from voicing his dissent. He had tried to warn them. When word had gotten to him that Starkhaven's forces were closing on Aria and Anders, the elf had nearly killed himself in an attempt to reach them first. But he had been too late; by the time he had arrived at the Rivaini village where they had been sheltering, they were already in custody. All he could do was join the soldiers in the hopes of freeing his friend and her lover, given the opportunity.

The Maker had been against him there, too. The two apostates were guarded so closely there had been no chance to set them loose, and all Fenris could do was offer silent support as he followed the small army back to Starkhaven. He had bitten his tongue as they were paraded through the streets in shackles, mocked by the people and pelted with garbage as the local templars dragged them along to the local keep. Now they were facing the judgment of a seething Sebastian, and Fenris knew in his heart that there would be no mercy.

"He isn't as responsible as you think! Justice has been quiet since that day; Anders has been regaining himself! The idea came from the spirit, not the man!" Aria's protests choked off as a gauntleted fist came down upon the small of her back, impacting upon one of her kidneys, rendering her temporarily immobile with obvious pain. Unable to fight, she sagged in the templars' hold, her head rolling to stare at the floor and her scarlet hair falling to hide her tear-filled eyes. "Please, spare his life... I beg you..."

Sebastian ignored her pleas, shutting his eyes to the picture of vulnerability and impending motherhood.

For his part, Anders had not said a word since the sentencing began. He merely knelt on the floor before the raised throne, surrounded by templars with drawn swords, his eyes fixed upon some point on the tiles. To Fenris, it appeared the apostate had resigned himself to whatever fate his former companion chose for him. Aria was the one fighting tooth and nail, when she had merely played the part of his unknowing accomplice in the Chantry's destruction.

"What of Hawke and the child?" the elf ventured. "Surely they won't be punished for his crime?"

Sebastian opened his eyes and turned his attention to him, the azure depths glittering with malice. Fenris had to surpress a shudder; of all his companions, this pious man was the last he would have expected to show such an expression. "The apostate Hawke shares responsibility for the Chantry murders. Although she claims she did not know the true reason Anders was gathering drakestone and sala petrae, she willfully agreed to help him in both collecting the materials and distracting the Grand Cleric while he set the charges. Therefore, while we will never discern if she was told what he was planning, the blood is as much on her hands as on her partner's." He sneered at her, and Fenris felt his anger flare. "Her punishment is clear, but the child compounds the matter. So my judgment is this: she will witness her precious Anders' hanging tomorrow. Following that, she will be sequestered in a room within this palace, kept under lock and key and guarded around the clock by experienced templars. A midwife will visit her daily, so she cannot give birth in secret and conceal the child. Once she has delivered, she will be hung. The child will be given to the local Chantry and raised according to Andraste's teachings. Should it display magical talent, it will be given to the Circle."

Aria sobbed and tears sprinkled the floor beneath her suspended body. Anders kept silent, but Fenris noted how his jaw clenched and his eyes closed.

The elf, too, had to forestall a need to scream in denial. This was not justice. Anders had to pay for what he did, nobody could deny that, but Aria and the child were blameless. The apostate had spoken the truth those years ago, that he had concealed his intentions so she would not stop him. If anybody could have talked him out of such drastic measures, it was Aria.

"What about you?" he could not help saying. "Why didn't you say that he was snooping around the Chantry, possibly doing something illegal? You saw us speaking to Elthina, and I know you were suspicious when Anders approached us at the altar. You could have ruined his plans simply by joining the conversation. So why didn't you?"

Sebastian flushed and the malice multiplied. "How could I have known what he was planning? I am no mage."

"How could Hawke have known? She had never heard of those ingredients before Anders brought them to her attention; how could she have realized they were to be used in a manner different from what she had been told?" Fenris saw the prince's eyes narrow and pressed his advantage. "She loved him. She was devoted to him, completely without reservation. He had never given her a reason not to trust him. She could not have imagined he would take advantage of her devotion in such a way. Surely you cannot condemn her to death for simple ignorance, not when you and I both know she would have stopped him had she been aware of his intentions."

Sebastian considered him for a long time, rubbing his thumb along his jaw in thought. Anders looked back to his partner, and Fenris saw his wince when he noticed the tears slipping down her cheeks. Real emotion flooded the apostate's eyes, a combination of chagrin, regret, and a sorrowful shadow of the love they shared. Fenris would never forgive him for using Aria's trust to achieve his goals, but he truly wished he had been able to warn them before the Starkhaven forces caught up with them. That was not the same man he had known in Kirkwall.

"You make a very good point, Fenris," the prince finally admitted. "Very well. I will not condemn Hawke to the noose. But neither will I risk giving her to the Circle. She has become a powerful symbol to the mages, and chances are they would rebel if she was placed within their midst. But there is a way for her to live her life and remain useful as the Chantry dictates, and still be punished for her part in the slaughter."

The room seemed to hold its breath. Both apostates stiffened, and Fenris felt his heart beginning to race. Surely he could not mean...

"Once the child is born, Hawke will submit to the Rite of Tranquility."

"_No!_" The cry erupted from Anders' lips, and the templars around him all dug their swords into his flesh as he jerked forward, his expression desperate. "You can't do that to her! She's not eligible!"

"On the contrary." Sebastian seemed to be enjoying himself. "Hawke is not a Circle mage. She has never undergone the Harrowing. That means she is fully eligible for the Rite of Tranquility, regardless of her status as Champion of Kirkwall."

Fenris watched Aria slump further, her legs curling beneath her swollen belly, the tears falling faster now. He could not remember ever seeing her so helpless, so vulnerable. Compared to the fiery, passionate woman he remembered, the crying female hanging in the templars' hands seemed a tragedy. The idea of her bright spark being smothered by a Chantry sunburst was akin to blasphemy in his mind.

"Are you sure that's wise? Once word spreads that she has been made Tranquil, mages will rise in protest. She is their hero, after all."

The prince glared at him. "I think it's entirely fitting. Her love and trust is what placed her in this position; once she is Tranquil, she will never trust so implicitly and thus can never be used in such a way again. That aside, the mages will be less willing to revolt if we use her as an example of what awaits those who refuse the Chantry's laws. It really is a better solution than simply executing her, and I thank you for bringing it to my attention, Fenris," he added, turning away with a swish of his cloak.

The elf bit his tongue, hating Sebastian for pinning the idea on him. Making Aria into a spiritless Tranquil was the last thing he could have wanted. But there was little more he could do for her now. Her fate was decided, as was Anders'.

He watched the captive couple being dragged from the throne room by no less than twelve templars, aware that Sebastian's chilly gaze once more rested upon him. Aria's head still lolled forward and every now and then a helpless sob shook her shoulders, but otherwise she offered no resistance. Anders, however, caught his eye as he was taken away. Within the amber depths, Fenris read a desperate plea. Not for himself, but for the woman they both loved.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

There were times, Fenris reflected, when being tattooed with lyrium was nothing short of useful. He had long since learned that phasing had other uses apart from crushing an opponent's heart within his hand; during his final year in Kirkwall, he had perfected a method of passing through walls and doors by phasing his entire body. He had to use it carefully because activating the lyrium flooded his general area with brillant azure light, but the ability was more than worth the risk on occasion.

This was one such instance. Aria and Anders had been locked in a single cell within the keep's dungeon, and a number of templars were stationed at every door leading to their quarters. But for all this caution, the door to their cell was left unguarded. It seemed that so long as they were kept drained of mana, the knights believed the couple presented no threat.

Clearly they did not know these apostates very well, Fenris thought with a grim smirk.

He had managed to sneak into the keep's cellars, and phased into the dungeons below them. From there his journey had involved sneaking and clandestine phasing, but to his utter relief no templar had noticed his passage. Several of them were involved in lively discussion of what they would do to the beautiful Champion once she was made Tranquil. Fenris only just managed to stop himself from breaking their necks, aware that defending her honor now would only result in two necks for the hangman tomorrow. It was bad enough that she was going to lose Anders.

Most of the cells were empty, but a few were occupied by shivering wretches in tattered robes. Sebastian, it seemed, had been hunting apostates in general rather than just Aria and Anders. Fenris pursed his lips and ignored the pleading, haunted eyes that stared at him from dark corners as he paced down the dank corridor. Maker only knew how many of them actually deserved to die, and how many were innocent. That aside, freeing them would only jeopardize his chances of helping his dearest friend.

He found them in the darkest cell, farthest from the door. Likely it was chosen so the other prisoners would have to watch them be dragged away in the morning for Anders' execution. Pushing aside the anger that erupted at the thought of that humiliation, Fenris looked at his friend and her partner. They were huddled together on the splintering, filthy cot that occupied one wall of the cell, too absorbed in themselves and their fates to take notice of him. Anders had wrapped Aria in his arms and pulled her sideways against his chest, keeping his cheek pressed to her hair. One of his hands rested atop her swollen belly, lightly stroking over her thin robes in an effort to touch their child. Aria's arms were looped around his neck, and the gleaming tracks of her tears shone in the flickering light from the torches which lined the corridor. As he watched, a few more gleaming droplets slid down her cheeks to fall from her narrow chin.

He tapped lightly against the bars of their cell, trying to rouse them from their little cocoon of self-pity. Aria's violet eyes flicked towards the disturbance, then widened as she sat up. "It's you!" she whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to get you both out of here. Why else would I be here?" Fenris held up a set of lockpicks. His relationship with Isabela had not lasted beyond their time in Kirkwall, but she had at least taught him how to spring a lock. With his nimble fingers, he was surprisingly good at it.

Anders untangled himself from his lover and stood, coming to the door. "That's why you followed us here, isn't it? I thought you only wanted Aria free."

"Of course I want her free, but she'll be miserable without you." He glanced down the hall, wary of any templars who might come to taunt the condemned couple before sunrise. "I believe the two of you have spent enough time in here. Are you ready to go?"

Aria nodded. "They took our staffs, but we don't need them to fight. Once we're out of these dungeons, we can defend ourselves. Until then, however, you're going to be our only protection."

"I have no idea how he did it, but the Knight-Commander set up a system that constantly drains our mana so long as we are down here. It works on all mages, not just us," Anders explained. "Outside the dungeons, the templars take care of draining us themselves."

So even if he was to allow Aria to recharge her spiritual energy from the lyrium in his body, as he had a few times in Kirkwall, it would merely last but a few moments. Fenris' lips thinned; of course it wouldn't be that easy to break out of here. "I doubt the templars will be all that vigilant, then. If they are so used to guarding the weak and defenseless, they will have no inkling of what I can do to them."

He made short work of the lock, and the two apostates crept out of their cell. Knowing that they would remain close, Fenris began to lead them down the hall, to the first pair of guards.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The templars never knew what hit them. Sebastian had posted a decent number of guards in the dungeon, but Fenris' ability to phase his body was something beyond their ken. Even better, Aria could help him now that she had picked a sword off one of the bodies. The elf was quietly grateful that he had taken the time to teach her swordplay back in Kirkwall; their escape would be much more difficult if he alone was defending them.

With each group of guards, Fenris would sneak ahead and crush the heart of the nearest templar. Aria would then follow as he engaged the other guards, using her stolen sword to stab and cut into the backs of his opponents. It wasn't ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but it worked, and with her advanced state of pregnancy Aria didn't dare risk a hand-to-hand confrontation. Anders merely stayed in the back, unable to do much more than watch their backs. He had tried to learn swordplay as well, attending his lover's lessons faithfully, but he just didn't have the talent for bladework that Aria did. Unlike her, he was a pure mage.

Between the two of them, however, the templars were falling like flies. They had made it out of the dungeon proper and were in the palace itself, just a guardroom away from freedom. Fenris remembered this particular room - the six guards were packed in fairly tight, and there were a good number of them. Enough to make this final stretch a serious challenge.

"Do you feel your magic yet?" he whispered to the two apostates.

They shook their heads. "The dampening effect is within the palace as well. Neither of us have been able to use our mana since we were first brought here," Anders murmured back.

"Then be ready for a fight." The elf rolled his shoulders, then silently began padding towards the guardroom. Aria followed close behind, and Anders trailed after her, watching the hall they had just vacated.

By the time he got to the doorway, four of the men were already down. Fenris had engaged the remaining pair, and Aria clung to the wall near the curtain, awaiting her chance to ruin an unwary assailant's day. The elf's swordwork, always precise and graceful, had taken on a new aspect of fury, and he made short work of the two guards in quick succession.

Anders flicked a stunned glance his way as he picked his way across the blood-slicked floor to the corpse with the fanciest armor, whom he assumed was the guard-captain. Fenris merely shook his head. He did not feel the need to explain himself to his long-time rival. All the apostate needed to know was that he was killing for Aria, and the life she carried.

"Keys?" the pregnant woman hissed, wrapping her arms about her belly. Her violet eyes flicked between her lover, her friend, and the two doors leading from the room.

"Keys." Anders held up the brass ring, displaying a pair of dull metal implements.

"Open it." Fenris took up a guard position before his friend, shielding her as Anders fitted the key to the lock and turned it. They all tensed as the portal swung open.

Nothing greeted them but an empty road and the moon overhead.

Fenris looked back to Aria, and she shrugged. "Let's take it as it is," she suggested quietly. "Perhaps we've been lucky, and no one has noticed that we've escaped."

"And Varric has been portraying you as an icon of virtue and purity." Her lover snorted and extended his hand to her. "Come on. Let's not waste our good fortune. I cannot wait to be away from this place."

"I could not agree more. I want to find a safe place for us to go, so we can raise our family." She took his hand, gripping the fingers tight.

"How much longer do you have until you deliver, Hawke?" Fenris asked, eyeing her bulging robes.

"Not long. Less than a month, I think." She gave him a nervous smile, then turned her attention back to the road. "Let's go."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Have we made it?" Aria turned fearful eyes back towards the distant walls of Starkhaven. Her hand visibly tightened upon Anders', reflecting her unease. Fenris knew exactly how she felt. Their escape seemed too easy, too convenient. He glanced about, trying to determine if they had truly gotten away, or if this was merely an elborate trap.

Trap, he realized. The men springing up from the tall waves of yellowing grass proved that his focus had been far too narrow. Worse, Sebastian and the Knight-Commander were present. There were enough swords, spears, and arrows pointed Aria's way that he dared not move.

"I had not thought you this reckless, Fenris," Sebastian remarked, slowly pacing towards them. "I was prepared to offer you clemency, as you were in no way connected to the murder of Grand Cleric Elthina. I had even considered asking you to become my personal bodyguard, out of the friendship we fostered back in Kirkwall. But this, I feel, negates both of those offers."

The Knight-Commander stepped up, broadsword held ready. "Drop your weapons! The Prince of Starkhaven commands you stand down, and in the Maker's name I shall bring these filthy maleficarum to justice. Niether shall live to see the sun crest the horizon!"

"No! You can't do this! What of my child? You would not take an innocent life; it goes against everything the Chanty stands for!" Aria pressed her hands to her belly, curling forward slightly with a pinched look on her face. Fenris glanced at her, wondering why she appeared to be in pain. She had not taken any wounds during their skirmishes, at least none that he recalled. "Mage or not, Andraste considered a babe's life sacrosanct!"

"But it has yet to draw its first breath! That means it does not live yet; the Maker will smile upon me for ridding Thedas of a future maleficar, along with its cursed parents!" The Knight-Commander's eyes shown with a zealotry Fenris had not seen since Meredith. That unfeeling, ruthless cunning that combined logic with utter devotion, and a mind twisted beyond all repair. This man was cut from similar cloth, that much was clear. Even Sebastian had to stare at him, despite putting arrow to bowstring.

"Ser Baxter, the babe remains a babe, whether it is unborn or resting in its mother's arms. We agreed to deal with Fenris and Anders. Hawke is to remain in my care until the child is born, and then submit to the Rite."

"Both of its parents are abominations. What think you the chances that this mage-spawn is pure?" Ser Baxter spat in Aria's general direction, hatred blazing in his bright green eyes. "For all we know, the Champion could have already bound a demon to her womb. She could give birth to a true abomination, a human child with the soul of a demon!" He raised his blade, already striding closer to Aria, who shrank back a little. Fenris and Anders moved to block his path, regardless of the forest of spears and swords surrounding them.

Sebastian laid a hand upon his shoulder. "I am your prince, and I command that you step down, Knight-Commander. This is my duty, more than yours."

The other man gave the prince a baleful glare. "You relinquished your holy vows the moment that crown touched your brow. You have no jurisdiction over me, Your Highness."

"I am the one who placed you in charge of the Templar Garrison at Starkhaven, Ser Baxter. I can have you replaced and shipped back to Orlais by tonight, if you do not stand down."

Ser Baxter's lip curled in the ugliest sneer Fenris had ever seen, but he lowered his sword and stepped back. Satisfied, Sebastian raised his bow.

"It is good that you came out here, Anders," he commented. "I would not wish to subject my people to the horror of an abomination's execution. By traveling outside the city, you have spared them that sight." His arrow was pointed directly at Anders' chest. "May you find peace in the Void, for that is where a maleficar such as you truly belongs."

_"NO!"_

The world seemed to slow. Fenris watched as Sebastian's fingers left the bowstring, the sudden release propelling the deadly missile forward. Ser Baxter's eyes took on a disturbing glow, synonymous with a primitive lust for blood. Aria threw herself forward, putting herself in the arrow's path.

He felt the scream welling in his throat, soundless but for the pounding of his heart, as the white-fletched arrow pierced her chest, just beneath her right breast. The crimson droplets of her blood seemed to hang suspended in the air, glistening with a macabre and beautiful gleam in the fading beams of moonlight.

Then she fell to the grass, and the time resumed its normal pace.

_"Aria!"_ Anders' tortured scream broke the collective shock, and Fenris ran to kneel beside the apostates, taking in the scene with a detachment he reserved for the worst of moments. The arrow had struck her right lung, and it was deep enough that she was already choking on her blood. Her hands clawed at her stomach, gripping the distended flesh tightly. Anders crouched helplessly beside her, straining with the effort to summon magic that simply would not come. Fenris snapped his infutiated green eyes to the Knight-Commander, who stood beside the stupefied Prince with a smug smile playing about his lips.

"You drained them. Return their magic. Let him save her!" he snarled.

"Even if I could undo a smite, I would not," came the reply. "Better that she and her demon-child die than bring agony and misery to all of Thedas. Surely the heavens are rejoicing at this moment."

"Come on! Maker, please, don't do this! Don't take them from me; not like this!" Anders was sobbing the words, pressing his hands against the welling blood and the arrowshaft, helpless to undo the damage. Fenris had never, _ever_ seen the other man cry, but he was now, in great heaving gulps of air. Tears spilled down his cheeks, soaking into Aria's stained robes. With a holy smite in place, Anders would need a lyrium potion to bring his magic back. There was no chance a magic-hating man such as the Knight Commander would allow any lyrium within ten miles of a mage.

The idea struck him so suddenly he almost staggered.

"Anders! Use the lyrium in me!" He dragged one fingertip down one of the lyrium trails embedded in his arm, the sharpened tip of his gauntlet piercing the silvery vein with ease. Blood spilled out in a slow wash, hastened by the pumping of his frantic heart. Mixed within the blood was the blue-tinged ice he had carried all these years, sparkling in the moon's sheen. The elf offered his arm to his least favorite companion, swallowing his dislike in the desperate wish to save Aria's life.

"No you don't!" One of the guards swung the flat of his blade at him, smacking Fenris into the grass. His vision spun as he tried to get his bearings, only to see Anders held at the point of Ser Baxter's sword. Sebastian was taking in the entire scene with shocked blue eyes, clutching his bow with white knuckles.

"You will die, mage, but not before you watch your mate bleed out," he hissed. "You will know the darkest despair before I send you to the Void."

"The babe shouldn't die like this!" Fenris slurred, trying to claw his way to Aria's side. Somehow, unbelievably, she was still clinging to life. "Don't condemn it for the crimes of its parents! It is an innocent life!"

"It is a demon!" the templar retorted. "How else could a Gray Warden beget a child? My sister's a Warden; she told me they are all sterile!"

"Fertility rite. The most powerful ritual known to the Rivaini seers." Anders' hoarse voice whistled through the air, dragging Sebastian and Fenris' attention to him. "She wanted my baby so badly, and I wanted to make her happy. We found a seer and performed the rite. The child carries a part of the taint, but it is fully human. It is a part of myself and Aria."

"As is any child borne of two people so deeply in love." Sebastian stepped forward, steady in spite of the whiteness of his cheeks. "Ser Baxter, on this we erred in judgement. The child should not die; it deserves a chance. Allow Anders to save Hawke's life, if only for the child's sake."

"Too late." Aria's weak contralto drifted to their ears, and Fenris snapped his swimming gaze back to his dearest friend. She had already lost so much blood. How was she still alive? Her robes were soaked in it. Anders shoved the Knight-Commander's blade away before the man could stop him, and knelt beside her hip, his back to Fenris.

"No. It can't be too late. Love, just hang on! Fenris! Give me your arm!" He reached for the elf, but the same guardsman who had knocked his world off-kilter planted a foot atop his chest, preventing the warrior from going to the other man's side.

"You will not use blood magic, maleficar!" Ser Baxter trumpeted. "You see, Your Highness? He is a blood mage!"

"Sebastian, please! I just need Fenris' lyrium, not his blood. Just a little lyrium, and I can save them!" Fenris was in no position to see Anders' face, but he was willing to bet it was the very portrait of desperation.

Sebastian wavered, but Aria reached up to tightly grip her love's arm.

"Anders... Listen to me." She choked, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. "Too late for me. Save the baby. Please." She rolled her head to regard Sebastian, who merely stared at her. "Give him...a knife. Get it out of me, before..."

All present stared at her, shocked to silence. What she was suggesting was something saved for the bleakest of situations, where all hope for a normal delivery was truly lost. The procedure was risky enough even with healing magic, but under these circumstance, it landed on a scale of odds that could only be labeled astronomical.

"Hawke, we can still save you. Nathan, let Fenris up," Sebastian commanded.

Aria shuddered, sending more precious crimson spilling across her saturated robes. "No. Take the baby. Already...in labor..." Her wide violet eyes locked onto her love's, compounding the death-grip she had on his arm. "Please, love. Save it. Please."

Anders shook, but he slowly nodded.

"Anders, you can't possibly - " Sebastian began to protest, but one red-stained hand silenced him.

"Give me a knife. I know you carry them." The amber-eyed mage's voice was thick with emotion, but steady. He was always prepared to do what must be done; in that aspect, this situation was no different than any other.

The prince inhaled, exhaled with great care. Then he reached for the knife strapped in his quiver.

"Your Highness!" Ser Baxter's protest was cut off by the wintery glance Sebastian sent his way. Quietly, he handed the blade to Anders.

Fenris twisted his head to look at Aria's face. She was rapidly losing blood, yet she remained conscious and aware. Her violet eyes met his, and she gave the faintest of smiles. The smile flinched when her lover sliced into her womb, but her gaze remained gentle in spite of the excruciating pain she must be experiencing.

She was ready to die.

Anders pulled back slightly, accompanied by a sharp, wet, sucking sound, and after a resounding _smack!_ a baby's sharp wail pierced the night. The apostate kneed closer to his lover's head, cradling their child in his arms. He twisted a bit, allowing Fenris a glimpse. It was covered in blood and slick fluids, its flesh mottled into patches of red flush and alabaster white. Little fists and arms trembled in the moonlight, shaking with the force of its cries. The twisted blue cord trailed from its belly to vanish inside Aria, still binding mother to child. Anders' face held a mixture of adoration, grief, and joy as he bent to show his beloved their child.

"Do you see her, love? She's beautiful, just like you. Absolutely perfect." He picked up one of Aria's hands and brought it to one of their baby's fists, gently wrapping her long fingers about the tiny digits. "She's ours, love. Our baby, just like you wanted."

"Our baby... Sienna..." Aria gasped for air, and her hand convulsed about the baby's. "Love you both...so much..."

She coughed, and blood sprayed from her lips to fountain across her lover and newly-born child. Then she collapsed back against the grass, her head lolling to the side, her vivid eyes glazing as more precious blood spilled into the earth in a sluggish trickle.

Fenris could have sworn he felt the world take a breath as her hand fell limp to the ground.

But Anders merely clutched their daugher close, bowing his head so their foreheads met. Tears raced down his cheeks in tiny rivers. "I'm sorry, Sienna. I'm so sorry I couldn't save her. I'm sorry."

Sebastian's knees hit the ground with an echoing clank of his armor. He stared at Aria's empty shell, and finally bowed his head and raised his clasped hands to his lips. "Blessed Andraste, guide this young mother to the Maker's side. Bring her to the peace she sought, and let her know the comfort of the Maker's embrace. Holy Lady of Sorrows, know that this woman is worthy of your intercession..."

Fenris ignored the remainder of the prayer, shoving aside his own grief while he pushed the guard's foot off his chest and rolled to his knees. That done, he merely sat there, trying to process what had just happened. Aria Hawke, one of the most powerful mages in all of Thedas, dead by the Prince of Starkhaven's hand. Her legacy sliced from her belly by her request, and quieting in her lover's arms.

Her pale white body, trickling her lifeblood into the grass while her empty purple eyes stared at them all.

Save for Anders' apologies, the child's whimpers, and Sebastian's prayers, silence had fallen across them all. Even that zealot of a templar, Ser Baxter, seemed shocked by the scene before him. Fenris was grateful for the loss of the man's tongue; if he had said anything about Aria in that moment, he would have taken his heart and stuffed it down his throat.

His prayers concluded, Sebastian slowly reached for Sienna, his movements cautious. His bright blue eyes revealed how wary he was of the remaining apostate's mental state. Anders twisted his upper body to the side, taking his daughter as far from the offending prince as he could without leaving his love's side. "You'll not touch her," he murmured.

"Apostates cannot raise children, Anders. She needs to be placed in an orphanage, where proper care may be rendered."

"So you'll fill her head with all that anti-mage nonsense? Never tell her who her parents were? How much they loved her?" He gazed down at the tiny baby in his arms, gently stroking her cheek with a careful finger. "I saw what happens to mages who grow up in Chantry orphanages. There was one at the Ferelden Circle. She hated herself so much she drove herself mad, then stole a templar's sword to run herself through. All because she thought her very existence was an offense to the Maker." His amber eyes slowly rose to meet the brilliant azure of the prince's, filled with an anger decades old. "It was sickening, hearing her in the chapel every morning and evening. She begged the Maker to take away her magic, to cleanse her of the sins that had made him hate her. You could hear the hysteria, the self-loathing in every word she cried. She even took to flogging herself before the altar, until one of the sisters told her that her blood could stain it. That same sister told her it was pointless to pray, because she was damned anyway for being born with magic. The Maker would never have her."

Several of the guards began fidgeting as he spoke. One of the younger templars lowered his head and closed his eyes, attempting to master himself. There was a story there, Fenris was certain. Ser Baxter simply folded his arms and looked on coldly. Sebastian wilted in the face of Anders' disgust, the accusation that he would turn tiny, innocent Sienna into a woman such as the poor soul in his tale. For his part, Fenris understood. Aria had helped him realize that while the Circles offered protection and education, they were also fostered despair within the mages. The abuses of the templars, those given the power of life and death over the captives, were almost on par with the magisters. That epiphany had come during the flight from Kirkwall, when they had come across an escaped mage from the fallen Circle. The girl had been no more than fourteen, starving, and heavily pregnant. She had traveled with them for a time, until they had found an abandoned hermit's cottage and she decided to stay. She had found a friend in Merrill, and confided that her child had been conceived in violence, not love. The father had been one of the knight-lieutinants.

His gaze flicked to Anders, noting the tension in the other man. There was no way he would ever allow his daughter to be raised by her mother's slayer. But he was in no position to get away. What did he intend?

As if sensing that he was thinking about him, Anders glanced his way. "Fenris, Aria and I discussed making you our child's godfather. Will you accept?"

What prompted that question? Fenris was too surprised to truly analyze it for any hidden meanings. He could only say "I would be honored."

"Then would you like to hold her?" His voice was carefully neutral, but he turned enough to face the elven warrior fully.

Fenris looked to the baby, unconsciously gauging how difficult it would be to get to his sword while holding her if the guards tried something. He might be able to tie her to him if he needed to fight, but only if he could wrestle Sebastian's fluttering blue cape away from him. Getting near the Prince might be one of the most dangerous things he had done since this failed escape attempt commenced, but an energy pulse would be enough to stagger everyone in the vicinity long enough for him to snatch the cape and get away. Perhaps even wrap Sienna in the fabric and tie her in place.

He did want to hold her, he realized with some surprise. Aria was no more, and the newborn carried the last pieces of the woman he had secretly loved. In holding Sienna, he could be assured that the Hawke line remained strong and very much alive. It would not be much comfort for the grief he kept dammed by shock and disassociation, but it would help.

His arms came up, stretched in Anders' direction. The new father came closer, carefully placed his daughter within the warrior's arms. Fenris held her close, staring down into a tiny face with rounded, perfect features and eyes that had yet to open. Sienna snuggled against him sleepily; through his armor, he could sense the warmth in her little body and his heart melted. Aria's daughter would be kept safe, even if he had to work with Anders in order to keep her that way. Sebastian and his templar cronies would never touch this helpless child.

"She is beautiful," he whispered softly.

"Her mother is dead," came Anders' reply. "And you killed her, _Choir Boy_."

Fenris' head snapped up in time to watch Sebastian visibly flinch at the nickname. "I did not mean to - "

"But you did. You shot her with your damned bow, then stood there while your pet templar rejoiced in her murder! You claim to be a man of the Maker? You are nothing more than a bloody hypocrite!"

"I meant to take her into custody, so she could have the baby in peace and safety."

"Then come at her with the brand!" Anders' power was rising again; it licked along Fenris' skin like fiery tongues, making him grunt with the strength of it. Either he was drawing upon Justice's Fade connection to overcome the earlier smite, or his anger was stirring his magic. Either way, he was becoming dangerous again. "You wanted to leave our child an orphan, malleable to your spite and fear! You would turn her into another Keirnan, so convinced she was hated by the Maker that she took her own life in despair!

"I won't let that happen! You'll never touch my daughter! She will always be safe from you!"

He raised his hands, lightning crackling about his fingers. Ser Baxter was raising his sword...

Fenris saw a peaceful smile upon the apostate's lips as the blade swung for his neck.

Then Anders' head flew, and his body crumbled to the grass beside his love's. The Knight-Commander stood there, gazing down at them with a fanatical joy, his teeth so white between his lips.

"Oh Maker..." Sebastian could only stare, his lips moving in a silent prayer. His bow fell to the ground while his azure gaze remained locked upon the dead lovers, two people he had known so well a few years ago.

Fenris only held baby Sienna closer, considering ways to cut the cord still binding her to her mother.

At last he knelt beside her dead parents, looking at the shaken Prince. "Sebastian, I have need of your cloak."

"My cloak?" He tore his gaze away from the bodies, taking in the stony-faced elf and the naked, shivering babe he held to his chest, almost engulfed in his arms. Understanding dawned in those bright blue eyes. "Of course. My cloak." He jerked at the golden pin with sharp, hurried gestures and finally just tore it from the soft fabric, casting it aside. Catching the cloak as it slipped from his shoulders, he offered it to Fenris.

The elf took it silently, and somehow managed to wrap Sienna in the thick cloth without dropping her while leaving her cord exposed. That done, he looked again to his former friend. "Tear off a strip, and tie it around the cord about...here." He touched a section of the twisted blue flesh a few inches from Sienna's belly. Although he was no healer, he had attended some of the births when Danarius was briefly in the business of breeding slaves. Fenris had been ordered to help keep the women calm, and help the midwife if she needed something. He had watched the process enough times to know how it worked, and had a rough idea of how to cut a child's cord. Anders would know better, but the man was in no position to answer any questions now.

Sebastian tore a thin strip from the trailing edge of the cloak and carefully looped it around the section Fenris had indicated, then tied it tight. Once that was done, he slipped a knife out of his boot and offered it hilt-first to the elf. "She might not get infected if you use this one. It's clean."

Fenris took the knife with a short nod and settled into a cross-legged position, laying Sienna in the cradle of his thighs. Once he was certain that she was steady, he picked up the cord and laid the blade's edge against the slick flesh. The baby didn't even notice as the knife sliced through the final connection to her mother. Now she was her own separate person, as well as an orphan.

But not alone, Fenris acknowledged, laying the knife aside and wrapping her more securely in the cloak. He had failed Aria and let Anders die, but he would find atonement by saving their daughter. He rose to his feet, followed by Sebastian. The Prince reached again for the child, but Fenris stepped back, shaking his head.

"Their final wish was for their daughter to grow up safe and free. You will abide by that wish."

"You can't think to raise a baby all by yourself!" someone in the crowd jeered. "How're you going to feed her? Eh?"

"There are ways to feed a motherless baby," Fenris replied without looking to the source of the voice. "And I won't be raising her by myself. I have a friend who will be more than willing to take her in, unless she's changed over the past few years." Last he had heard, Aveline had a son of her own now. He could not recall the boy's name, but he knew it wasn't Wesley. That he remembered, because he had been so surprised to hear it was not the name she had chosen. The former guard-captain had been one of Aria's closest friends; she would more than likely take in the orphaned baby Hawke, especially once she heard how she lost her parents.

Fenris directed his gaze to the men in front of them, allowing some of the coldness of his anger to creep into his eyes. "Move," he ordered in a clear, even voice.

The guards traced their eyes over him, assessing the obvious strength in his long, wiry limbs and the gigantic blade across his back. He was carrying a newborn in his arms, but considering that he had torn through more than two dozen of their comrades last night, they were less than inclined to discount him as a threat.

"Fenris, please reconsider. You are a wandering warrior, a mercenary. That is no life for a child. I don't know who you have in mind, but this woman is surely far away and it will take time to reach her." Sebastian edged into his line of sight, keeping his hands well clear of any weapons. "I did not mean to orphan her in such a way as this."

"You were planning to execute her father and turn her mother into a souless shadow of herself. Don't you dare stand there and tell me you weren't planning to orphan her," Fenris snarled. In his arms, Sienna sniffled and shifted, scrunching her face in growing discomfort. The elf forced some of the tension to drain from his limbs and rocked her gently, murmuring comforting nonsense until she settled back down.

"Anders had to pay for his crimes," Sebastian intoned.

"But did Hawke? Or his daugther?"

Sebastian opened his mouth, but no words emerged. At last he sighed. "You are right. I was seeking targets for my vengeance, and that interfered in my judgement. It is too late for Hawke now, but please, allow me to make amends. I will raise her daughter as though she were my own. She will never want for anything in this world, I swear it."

"And how will you face her every day? How do you plan to explain what happened to her parents when she asks?" Fenris clutched her a little closer, pinning the prince with his gaze. "Once she discovers that you caused the death of her parents, she will hate you. That aside, how will you react if she has inherited their magic? Could you really allow her to be taken away and shut in the Circle, after raising her yourself?"

The prince had no answer. At last, he raised his hand. "Let him pass."

The guards murmured, but parted to the sides. Fenris walked between them, towards the lightening sky.

"You'll not unleash a demon upon this world, elf!"

His keen ears detected the sudden swish of violently-moving grass and clanking armor, the sharp hiss of a blade leaving its sheath. Fenris dove to the side, Sienna cradled tight to his chest, as a sword cleaved the ground where he had just been standing. He rolled and turned to face his attacker, unsurprised to see that it was Ser Baxter.

"She is not a demon, Knight-Commander! That's just a child, one who just lost her parents!" one of the lesser templars called.

The fanatic sneered, his handsome face twisting into a disturbing mockery of righteousness. "You have always been soft, Ser Canan. That thing is no child!" He brandished his sword and Fenris felt a chill traverse down his spine as he beheld the madness in his too-bright eyes. "None of you see it, but I do! It is a monster, and if I do not destroy it in the Maker's name, it will drown the world in fire! Its very existence spits upon the Maker's name!"

He turned his gaze skyward, holding his blade at the ready before him. "Blessed Andastre, hear me! In your name, I shall cleanse this world of magic's unholy taint! Thedas will know peace at last, and the Maker will return to rule us anew! The future begins here, with this chil-_hurk!_"

The blade hit the ground with a dull thud. Fenris watched the other man's face as his shocked eyes fell to the glowing arm buried in his chest, the incomprehension and dawning horror. He felt the Knight-Commander's heart drumming between his fingers, the slick weight repeatedly leaving and falling into his cupped palm. It was a sensation he knew very well, but rarely did he take pleasure in it.

This was only the second occasion when he felt the malicious satisfaction spread throughout his own chest.

"Fenris, don't!" Sebastian called.

"He will never stop hunting her, or any mage," he replied in a steady voice. "I saw his captives in the dungeon. This man knows no pity, not even for a helpless babe. Would you truly allow something like him to decide the fate of so many?"

"His fate is in the Maker's hands, not mine."

"No." Fenris flexed his fingers, staring straight into the fanatic's wide eyes. "The Maker has placed his life in my hand."

It was over in one squeeze. He withdrew his hand from Ser Baxter's chest as the body fell to its knees, crumpling to the side. He stood there with blood dripping from his hand, only one arm supporting the sleeping Sienna, just looking at the gathered men. Their fear radiated off them in a palpable wave, and Fenris felt the urge to speak his mind.

"How many more Ser Baxters are there? How many more would slay the innocent, just because they possess magic they never wanted? How many of those mages are condemned for a sin committed before their birth, because we claim they were born without innocence?" He glared at them all, then fixed his gaze upon his former friend. "Must we forever punish them for the sins of the Imperium? This is why the Maker continues to turn his gaze from us, not because of the magisters! Because we would kill even the helpless children in His name! We are not worth saving so long as we would perpetuate such atrocities behind the veil of righteousness!"

Sebastian was quiet, silently assessing the fuming warrior. Then he spoke. "You have changed. The Fenris I knew in Kirkwall would never have said such things."

"It's because of Hawke. She showed me the truth." The prince had to recall how much Fenris and Aria had butted heads in Kirkwall when it came to the topic of mages. She never fought with him, as Anders had, but instead asked why he thought certain things when they arose in the conversation. Then she would ask what had led him to those conclusions, and constantly wonder whether his hatred was for the person associated with the memory rather than the magic itself. The question that had finally opened his eyes had been "would Danarius have been any less a monster if he had not been born a mage?"

She had convinced him that not all mages were to be reviled, and now she had left her legacy in his hands. Perhaps, when Sienna was in Aveline's care, he could help others to reach the same conclusions he had drawn.

"You are as honest as always, Fenris, yet you remain an enigma." Sebastian shook his head slowly, a faint smile curling his lips. "Very well. I shall let you go, so long as you promise a peaceful future for that child. It will be your penance for killing so many of my men."

Fenris merely nodded and turned away. He had no intention of abandoning Sienna. He owed it to Aria to protect her daughter.

The sun was finally cresting the horizon, bathing the tragic scene in soft golden light. Fenris thought of the bodies on the ground, how Anders' corpse had fallen atop Aria's in such a manner that he all but covered her. It was almost as though the mage was trying, even in death, to shield his beloved from further harm. He remembered Aria's peaceful smile, slowly relaxing from her face as she lay upon the grass. Anders had worn such a smile, in spite of the sword rushing for his neck.

They had never wanted anything more than to be together, even if it was beyond death. Their smiles had been for each other, and for him; they had known Fenris could be trusted to protect their daughter.

The warrior took a deep breath and let it out slow, swearing to fulfill their trust within his heart. Without further word to Sebastian and his silent men, he adjusted Sienna to his other arm and started off, leaving the bodies of the Champion and her beloved renegade to cool in the rising sun.


End file.
